


Albus Potter and the Parseltongue Prince

by andromedablacc (TheLittleGreenTypewriter)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Slow Burn, but only towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6398842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleGreenTypewriter/pseuds/andromedablacc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus Severus Potter is the youngest son of the great and noble Harry Potter, and a gay Slytherin; his family hates him, though they tell him he's just paranoid. When the Chamber of Secrets is opened yet again, Albus finds himself and his best friend Scorpius Malfoy the main suspects. But will the voice in his head help or hinder him in finding the real culprit, and why is it so obsessed with Scorp?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Train Rides & Nice Guys

* * *

Albus Severus Potter was not like the rest of his gigantic family – he had always known this – but he had managed to hide that fact from everyone else, burry it in the sand where no one could ever find it, where it would eventually be lost to time. He was sure no one would ever find it, so sure he had no backup plan, no excuse, just the assurance that the truth would never reach the surface.

His plan to pretend for all his life had been going well, not one person had noticed, not even his father – who had always favoured him – until one day, Albus Severus sat on a mundane stool and had a not-so-mundane hat placed on his head.

He had though – naively Albus would recognise now, if ever he looked back – that this hat would be fooled too, for, in the end, it was just a hat, yes? But this was a wise hat and it could see things no one else could. Tucked away in the recesses of what made Albus Severus Potter, it saw ambition, cunning, and a fierce sense of self-preservation. These traits, it knew – as did Albus – did not suit a Gryffindor well, and so, to the shock and awe of almost everyone in the Great Hall, the Sorting Hat named the great, brave and noble Harry James Potter's second son a Slytherin.

Albus' secret was released into the world, never to return to its place in the sand.

* * *

Albus Potter dared not chance a final look at his parents and little sister when he stepped on the Hogwarts Express for the first time in his relatively short life. The train was bursting with people he had neither heard nor seen before, and just a few he was related to. Brushing past what felt like a thousand people, Albus made his way down the train to where he thought he might find his brother, James, and his cousins Rose, Fred, Roxanne, Lucy, Molly and Dominique. Indeed, when he did find the compartment that housed his family, it was full.

"Come on Al," Rose said, taking Albus' arm in a firm grasp and leading him out of the compartment, her curly red hair bouncing on her shoulders. "We'll find other first years to sit with."

And so, without any choice in the matter whatsoever, Albus found himself in the crowded thinned and by the time they found a compartment that was not completely full they were the only two still standing that Albus could see.

"There's somebody in this one," Rose commented after peering into the final compartment on the train. "But I think he's asleep. Should we go in?"  
Rose's bright blue eyes searched Albus' for conformation, her hand resting on the brass door knob, ready to open it or leave depending on Albus' reply.  
Albus shrugged; "Sure." He was unused to being asked his opinion; normally James just led him around. Something of his true nature flickered in his stomach and he instantly fought to suppress it.

Rose slid open the door and stepped inside, Albus following close behind and taking the spare seat at the window. The boy was indeed fast asleep, his head rested against the window, pushing his slicked back, white blond hair into a strange position. He looked young, certainly no older than James and the uniform he wore had no indication of his house; Albus guessed he was a first year. On the seat beside him was a long, pale wand and a large black dragon hide bag from which small squawking noises came when the carriage rattled over the old train tracks. Albus and Rose sat in silence, afraid to wake the sleeping boy.

* * *

A loud banging and the noise of voices shouting roughly roused Albus from an uncomfortable sleep. At his side Rose sat with her nose buried in a book, completely unaware of the stout elderly woman and her trolley loaded with sweets sauntering past their compartment.

"Anything from the trolley, dear?" she asked loudly, peering at Albus with kind brown eyes. Albus was about to refuse, but a loud rumbling from his stomach reminded him of the fact that he hadn't eaten since his breakfast early that morning.  
"I'll have a pumpkin pie, please," he said, rummaging around his pockets for some money.  
"And I'll have the same." The voice was unexpectedly close, making Albus squeak as he turned around to see that the sleeping boy was sleeping no longer, and that he was standing right next to Albus.

Albus stared at him as the tall boy – for he realised now that the boy was indeed very tall – handed over some silver coins to the trolley woman was handed a dull orange pumpkin pie in return.  
"Thank you, dear," the woman said, dropping the money into a pouch around her waist and holding out a pumpkin pie for Albus expectantly. When he finally brought out the money, he realised he was short.  
"Fluff," he murmured to himself. "Rosie, have you got any money on you; I've left mine in my trunk."  
Rose's head snapped up to look him in the eyes. "No, I left my money in my trunk too."  
Albus' stomach growled loudly again and he looked at the woman apologetically.  
"Sorry," he said. "I've not got enough." He shoved his silver coins back into his pockets and sat down, not looking into the woman's sympathetic eyes.  
"Here," the blond boy said suddenly, dropping more money out to the woman and passing the pie she gave him to Albus.

Albus looked up to the boy in wonder at the act of kindness, who stood in the doorway until the woman and her trolley passed by completely.  
"Thanks," he muttered, tucking into his pumpkin pie. The boy shrugged.  
"Don't worry about it. It's like my Dad says; what's the point in having loads of money if you don't spend it?" He smiled at Albus, but the smile didn't reach his grey eyes.

"I'm Scorpius, by the way. Scorpius Malfoy."  
Albus stared at the hand Scorpius outstretched to him. Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius _Malfoy._ Of the Malfoys. Albus was a Potter and Scorpius Malfoy had just bought something for him. Scorpius started to retract his hand, but Albus grabbed it before he had withdrawn it completely with a sudden flair of courage. Who cared if he was a Malfoy, he had just been kind to him.  
"Albus Potter," he announced, smiling widely. Scorpius smiled again and this time his grey eyes lit up with it.


	2. Chapter 1: Red & Gold vs. Green & Silver

* * *

 The Divination N.E.W.T class was always tiny; this year is consisted of just ten pupils. In all honesty, Albus had no idea why he had made the decision to take the subject to N.E.W.T level, other than the fact that you only needed to get an Acceptable in the Divination O.W.L., and every single day he wished he hadn’t.

“Oh, hello Albus,” Professor Trelawney greeted him in her normal ethereal voice as he pushed open the trapdoor and scrambled into the classroom, Scorpius close at his heels. “I haven’t seen you in my class for a while.  
“Professor, you’ve been teaching me twice a week for the past six years,” he pointed out as Scorpius stood up behind him.  
Professor Trelawney ignored him. “Ah, Scorpius dear, how is your mother?” Albus and Scorpius shared an exasperated look. “She’s well, Professor.”  
“I see,” Professor Trelawney said and wandered off to stand by her desk, stroking her grey and white cat’s head.

“She gets more and more insane every day, I swear,” Scorpius muttered, sliding into one of the two miniature seats at a minute table and leaning back. Albus thought he looked rather like a house cat sometimes; laidback, superior and unthinkingly graceful. He wondered if he threw him out of a window, would he land on his feet? He took the other seat and unceremoniously threw his copy of Unfogging the Future onto the table, almost knocking over the crystal ball sitting on a cushion in the centre.  
Scorpius gave the ball a scathing look. “I wish that thing would just smash.”  
Albus chuckled softly and flicked open his textbook to the pages about crystal-gazing, purposefully keeping his eyes off of Scorpius. “I don’t see why you even took Divination; the only subject you struggle with is Potions and you still managed to scrape an E in that.”  
Scorpius continued to glare at the crystal ball. “I only managed to get an E because Carrow sat on one side of me, and Luce sat on the other, and they’re both infuriatingly easy to copy off of, and practically geniuses. Plus, I was hardly going to leave you here alone.”  
Albus looked up from the textbook to see Scorpius’ piercing grey eyes gazing at him, with a strange look in them that he didn’t recognise.

Lately, Scorpius had been giving Albus strange glances a lot. He had originally thought it might be because Albus had finally told him he was gay, but that seemed rather unlikely. Maybe it was because Scorpius had failed to join the Quidditch team again. Albus wasn’t sure, but it was starting to freak him out a little.

* * *

 As Lucinda Dolohov sauntered into the Slytherin common room, Albus smiled and remembered the day they had met. Despite being in the same year and the same house, Albus hadn’t met Lucinda until two weeks into his third year when the Quidditch tryouts were held. Lucinda was already a fierce beater, much loved by the rest of the team, and Albus was trying out for the open place of Seeker. As the only third year on the team at the time, Lucinda had encouraged Albus tremendously and begged that he join the team, rather than his opposition for the position – an oversized seventh year, that was probably a much better Seeker than Albus. Back then, she had had black hair that fell in lazy half-curls to her waist, and bottle green eyes flecked with bronze, her face round and pale.

That paleness was the only thing she had kept since then. Now, she was one of the tallest girls in Hogwarts, her hair poker straight and shoulder length, white blonde except from her dark blue fringe, her eyes like liquid amber. But she was still just as magnificent a beater.

Lucinda dropped down onto the black leather couch beside him, pushing her cold, bare feet under his thigh.  
“Quidditch practise tonight,” she said lightly, bringing a thick, leather bound book out of her bag and resting it on her knees.  
“Why do all my notifications about Quidditch come through you?” he asked unintentionally sharply. Part of him wanted to feel guilty about it, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologise.  
Lucinda didn’t seem to mind, never taking her eyes off of her book. “Because you never read the notice board, and nobody would tell you otherwise. Have you done your Divination homework?”  
Albus shook his head and laughed. “You sound like my Aunt Hermione. And I need to read someone’s palms for it.”  
“That’s bullshit, Al.”

“What is?” A smooth, deep voice asked from above Albus’ head. His green eyes snapped up to see Dimitri Carrow towering above him; one dark eyebrow raised, his mop of dark brown hair falling into his curious golden brown eyes. Albus felt his heart give a flutter and cursed himself for it. Carrow was straight, and nothing was ever going to change that.

“Palm reading,” Lucinda answered angrily, as Carrow sat behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Divination in general is bullshit.”

A fierce, hot jealously shot through Albus and he cursed himself again; there was nothing going on between them, he knew that. He wondered how Calin must feel when he saw them like that - it must be much worse for him.

“Where’s Thorne, and Colt?” he asked to distract himself from his own insanity. Because wanting Carrow was insane. He’d dated, and probably slept with, almost every girl in their year, Slytherin or not, and it wasn’t as if he was ever going to look at Albus twice. Even if he was gay, it would be unadvisable to go out with him; as Thorne always said, he was probably diseased.  
“Thorne’s with Anastasia. I would have thought Colt was with you, Luce?”  
“Why?” she snapped at him, looking furious.

In the previous year, Carrow and Thorne had constantly accused Lucinda and Colt of having a secret relationship. Though both of them consistently denied it, both of them would disappear for hours on end, and even Albus had to admit he thought there was something going on there. As it turned out, Lucinda was having a secret relationship, just not with Colt. Colt, on the other hand, had been practising like mad to try and get onto the Quidditch team, though was too embarrassed to tell them, and when the tryouts for this year’s Quidditch team came around, he had swiped the open place for Keeper from right under Scorpius’ nose, much to the taller boy’s displeasure. Even still, Lucinda was always angered whenever she thought they might be accusing her again.

Albus raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, whilst Carrow laughed and ran his hands through her hair.  
“Calm down, Luce,” he chuckled. “I simply meant that you both just had a free; normally you spend it together.”

_I wish he’d run his hands through my hair like that_ , a little voice in the back of Albus’ mind said wistfully.  
Shut up! He told it. I do not want Carrow!  
_Oh yes you do. You want to know what he feels like, what it would be like to-_

“Luce, Al!” A voice called over, shutting up the voice in Albus’ head, much to his relief. The three sixth years looked around and caught sight of a brown eyed boy coming towards them on long, lean legs that seemed to cover half of the room in one stride.

_Now, I wouldn’t mind having him either_ , the voice said suggestively. _I wonder if his cock’s-_  
Shut up! Albus screamed at the voice in his head. I do not want Carrow, and I most certainly do not want Calin, okay?  
No reply came, and Albus hoped the voice kept silent.

“Remember we’ve got Quidditch at six, yeah?” Calin kept him eyes mainly on Albus, who was terrible for forgetting.

The younger of the two black haired boys blushed and looked away, frightfully embarrassed. His eyes settled on Carrow, whose head was resting on Lucinda’s shoulder, who was gazing up at Calin, who in turn was still watching Albus. Carrow, Albus decided, really wasn’t that attractive; his eyes were slightly too light a brown, his nose too long, his chin too sharp. Yet when he looked to Albus and his thin lips curved up in a tiny smile, Albus still felt himself turn an even darker shade of pink. Carrow’s smile grew, and his eyes glittered with unconstrained mischief.

“So, I’ll see you both there. On time?” Calin’s voice brought Albus and Carrow’s attention back to him, though Albus felt a little light headed.  
“I’ll make sure he’s there on time,” Lucinda assured their team captain.  
Finally, Calin’s attention was back on his favourite Beater. He smiled a slightly crooked smile, and leaned down to kiss her once on the lips, before he was off again, tending to the call of his friends.

“You two are so cute,” Carrow stated. Lucinda rolled her eyes at him.  
“And you’re such a twelve year old girl.”

* * *

Albus stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom and straightened his tie. The silk was smooth under his hand, and he found himself imagining what his life would have been like if its colours had been red and gold instead of green and silver. His father would still have favoured him, he guessed, and probably would have continued smothering him. His brother would have actually spoken to him in school time, but would have fought with him constantly. Roxanne would have been his Quidditch team captain instead of Calin. He would have spent most of his time with Rose, not Scorpius. He would probably not even know Scorpius, or hate him like his father had Draco Malfoy.

The thought of hating Scorpius sent a stab of pain through his heart, and Albus knew that he would never give Scorpius’ friendship up, not even for the love his family had once shown him. They still loved him, he knew, but it didn’t feel the same as they loved James and Lily.

He caught sight of the dark green jade and black diamond pin that his Grams had given him on his sixteenth birthday.

“This belonged to the last member of your family that was a Slytherin. He was my uncle, Ignatius Prewett. Your Uncle Percy is named after him. Don’t let anybody make you think you are any less a part of this family just because of the colours in your tie, okay?” she had said, pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

He had worn it every day since.

* * *

 Albus watched as the blond man swirled the dark red wine in his glass and looked up at the dark haired woman through his eyelashes. Albus felt a stab of pain shoot through his chest, as if someone had sent an arrow straight through his heart. The blood that oozed out of the wound was green, and when Albus looked back at the pair on the other side of the room, his vision was tinged green.

_How can he do this to me?!_ The voice in his head screamed. _He’s supposed to love me!_  
Albus flinched.

He didn’t know the man, or the woman, or the voice in his head, but they had a vague sense of familiarity to them.

_And her, she’s just a slut, a whore! She’s just using him! He must know that, surely he must know that? He isn’t an idiot, but then neither is she. Neither am I. I know what she’s doing, doesn’t he understand. It was supposed to be just us, just the two of us, together. This was our project, our work, and she thinks she can just worm her way in, does she?_

“Are you alright, dear?” A voice said from beside Albus. He turned to face the round, short woman, still furious with the blond man and unaware of whom he was.  
“I’m not your dear, and I’m perfectly alright,” he snapped at her, turning back to the other pair as pain and worry settled in the woman’s face. She too, had looked familiar, but he had no clue as to who she was.  
“Albus,” she said in a strange voice. Her bright blue eyes turned grey as he looked at her.  
Albus leaned backwards; what was this?  
“Albus,” she said again, sounding worried, but the voice was not her’s. It was a voice he knew all too well, but couldn’t name. “Albus!”

Albus’ eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as air whooshed in and out of his lungs. A pointed, worried face hovered over him with the same grey eyes the woman had had. He smiled, and felt himself relax a little.

“Scorpius,” he breathed, pushing himself up into a sitting position.  
“You must have been having an awful dream,” Colt said, and Albus noticed he, Carrow and Thorne were all standing around his bed, Scorpius perched on the end.  
“Did I wake you all?” he asked, suddenly feeling rather guilty. He hadn’t been screaming in his dream. Had he been screaming in reality?  
“I think you woke up the entire tower,” Scorpius chimed in, a smirk starting to form on his lips. Clearly his worry had passed.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom slammed open and two boys stood in the doorway, both holding up wands, little balls of light emanating from the tip.  
“What is going on in here?” Frank Longbottom screeched.  
Albus had to smother a laugh as Calin, who stood beside him, winced.  
“Nothing, Frank, Albus had a bad dream,” Carrow sneered, his voice thick with disgust.  
“Well then,” Frank snapped. “Back to bed, all of you. It’s almost half past four, we have to get up soon.”

The door slammed shut again, and the boys laughed as they slunk back to bed. Not long after, Albus could hear the soft, slow in and out of his dorm mates breathing as they fell into a deep slumber, but Albus could not sleep. Who had the people in his dream been? And why was he so jealous of someone he’d never met? 

* * *

 The smell of burnt toast and pumpkin soup wafted towards the door of the Great Hall as the five Slytherin boys walked along the Slytherin table until they caught sight of Lucinda sitting, animatedly talking to Slytherin’s other Beater, Irina Avery, five empty spaces around her. The five sank into them and Lucinda glared at them all.

“You’re all late,” she snapped, already dressed in her green and silver Quidditch jersey, the number four emblazoned on the front, paired with her cream trousers and dark brown boots. Her gaze moved to Colt, then Albus. “Why aren’t you wearing your Quidditch stuff?”  
“The game doesn’t start until two, Luce,” Colt said, picking up a barely brown slice of toast and covering it with peanut butter.  
Lucinda looked disgusted. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Calin, who appeared behind them.  
“Are you guys ready to slaughter those Gryffindors?” he asked, clearly trying to build the morale they had lost after being defeated by the Hufflepuffs in a practice game. He too, was wearing his uniform, as was Avery.  
Colt and Albus exchanged a look. “When does the game start?” Albus asked, suddenly nervous.  
Calin glanced at his watch. “In fifteen minutes.”  
Colt gagged on his toast. “Fifteen minutes?!” he shouted, his voice muffled by his food.  
Calin nodded, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.  
“So you’d better get ready,” Thorne pointed out.  
The two boys were up and out of the Great Hall in a flash.

* * *

Colt and Albus sprinted back up the spiral staircase, their green and silver cloaks whipping about behind them. Nobody else was in the corridors now, everybody would already be in the stands for the first Slytherin game of the season. Albus had got a glance at the common room clock before they left. It was two minutes to two; they were going to be late.

“You ready?” Calin asked when they finally arrived in the Slytherin Quidditch room, completely out of breath.  
Colt bent over, his hands on his knees, his breath coming out in loud wheezes.  
Calin’s brow creased with concern, and he came to stand beside the shorter boy. “Are you going to be okay to play?”  
Colt stood up slowly, his eyes on the ceiling, and waved a hand dismissively at him. “I’ll be fine.”

Madam Eldridge walked in then, pulling on her black dragon hide cloves. Her blue eyes swept over the boys and girls in the room and raised a light brown eyebrow at Calin.

“Are you ready yet?” she barked, impatience clear in her shrill, high voice.  
Calin glanced at her, and back at Colt. “Yes, Madam.”  
The aging woman nodded and swept out of the room.

Albus watched from the archway as Madam Eldridge stood in the middle of the Quidditch pitch and gestured for both of the teams to come forward. He and Anatoli Dolohov – Lucinda’s younger cousin - left first, as Seeker and Keeper. Lucinda and Avery walked out behind them, with Calin, Colt and another seventh year boy named Nickolas Pike, walked at the back. As the team stepped out onto the field, broomsticks in hand, the Slytherin crowd erupted into cheers and whistles. Albus searched the faces of the crowd and saw Scorpius, Carrow and Thorne standing together, cheering as loud as anybody else. His father wasn’t there, of course, he never was. He was probably on the Gryffindor side, supporting his brother and cousins like he always did, but never Albus.

“Mount your brooms!” Madam Eldridge ordered. She glanced around the pitch to make sure everybody was ready, and then gave her whistle a hard, sharp blow. Both teams soared up into the sky, and as always, Albus waited mid-air, far above the rest of the players. He listened for the voice of his cousin Louis.

“Poppy Wildflower catches the Quaffle, and off she goes! Oh, she passes to Roxanne Weasley – my cousin, the captain. She’s belting along there, oh she’s almost there! She passes back to Poppy – intercepted by Slytherin’s new boy, Colt Browning-Foxx! Never seen him play before. He’s fast! He’s belting back down to the Gryffindor goalposts, a neat pass to team Captain, Calin Lexington. Keeper Fred Weasley – another cousin of mine – swoops to save the ball – misses – SLYTHERIN SCORE!”

Albus heard the Slytherins erupt into cheers again, but his mind was now otherwise occupied. His gaze swept over the field, above him, below him, for the golden ball that would be the Snitch. Abruptly, Hugo Weasley started to move, speeding along near the ground. Albus searched in front of him and saw a tiny golden dot moving along near the ground. Down, he swooped, close to the ground. Hugo reached out, but suddenly a Bludger hit his arm, and the Snitch was out of this reach. Albus didn’t pause to see what happened to his cousin, instead, he chased after the Snitch. He heard the Gryffindors roar suddenly, and knew that they must have scored. He felt a whoosh of air as players rushed overhead, and watched, as barely three feet in front of him, Annabelle Worthington crashed into the ground. He curved around her as another Bludger came hurtling his way. Avery was there, then, and she slammed her beater into the Bludger, sending it hurtling along the other direction. She looked at Albus and grinned, before diving out of the way as two Gryffindor Chasers sped up to her.

Cheering started again, Albus didn’t know which team it came from. He looked around and saw the Snitch hovering just above him. Hugo was nowhere to be seen. Albus swooped up in chase of the Snitch. He was so close - so close - if he could just – his hand closed around the Snitch, and the Slytherins were so loud, he could barely hear Louis announce that he had caught the caught the Snitch, and that Slytherin had one the game.

Albus’ family may dislike his house, but they could never say they couldn’t play Quidditch.

* * *

 Albus watched as the blond man swirled the dark red wine in his glass and looked up at the dark haired woman through his eyelashes. Albus felt a stab of pain shoot through his chest, as if someone had sent an arrow straight through his heart. The blood that oozed out of the wound was green, and when Albus looked back at the pair on the other side of the room, his vision was tinged green.

_How can he do this to me?!_ The voice in his head screamed. _He’s supposed to love me!_  
Albus flinched.

He didn’t know the man, or the woman, or the voice in his head, but they had a vague sense of familiarity to them.

_And her, she’s just a slut, a whore! She’s just using-_

“Wake up!” Albus flinched at the noise, and looked around. Where had it come from?  
“Get up! GET UP, GET UP, GET UP!” Albus’ eyes snapped open and he bolted up right to see Lucinda standing in the middle of the room, screaming. “GET UP!”  
“Right I’m up, I’m up!” Carrow shouted back at her, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he pushed himself up off his bed.  
“What is it, Luce?” Thorne asked, his voice groggy.  
“You have to come and see!” she shouted, grabbed Thorne and Carrow by the hand and wrenched them both out of bed. She kept her hold on them as she ran from the room. She had looked terrified. Colt, Scorpius and Albus exchanged a look, and then bolted out after them.

They ran, in their pyjamas, from the bedrooms, though the common room, and up several flights of stairs, to stand in front of a wall. Albus felt his chest constrict as he looked at the message, written in what appeared to be blood;

‘The chamber of secrets has been opened, enemies of the Heir beware!’


	3. Chapter 2: Arguments & Realisations

* * *

 Time seemed to slow down as Albus read and re-read the bloody message inscribed on the wall. He watched as the red liquid flowed along the cracks in the grey stone and found himself wondering how those walls could keep him safe when the danger lay within. The sounds of gasps and screams bounced off the walls as more and more terrified students arrived at the scene, but Albus barely heard them, entranced as he was by the blood pooling at the bottom of the wall. Here and there, blood oozed out of the tiny fissures where the wall met the floor.

Suddenly, a hand grasped Albus’ wrist and he was pulled to the side, snapping him out of his enchantment. A rush of sounds hit his ears and he realised there were more than two hundred people looking at the bloody message. Professor Longbottom was running towards them.

“Everybody down to the Great Hall!” he shouted and shooed the students away from the now rather large puddle of blood covering the floor. “Now!”

Albus cast about and saw James, Lily and his cousins heading down the corridor, away from the message, him, and Professor Longbottom, in a rush to get away. They hadn’t thought to come and find him; they had quite forgotten him. Anger, sharp and cold, shot through Albus like a knife and he felt himself drawing his wand.

“Al, come on!” Scorpius urged, his grip on Albus’ wrist tightening as he tugged him in the direction of the Grand Staircase. Albus let himself be led away, his thoughts turning dark.

* * *

“There wasn’t enough blood on the wall to make that much of a puddle anyway!” Albus heard Markus, the middle Carrow brother, exclaim from where he stood with Carrow and their younger brother Thaddeus.  
“The wall was bleeding, Mark,” Thaddeus said, sounding shaken.  
“It must have been a sanguinum charm. Very difficult, only a seventh year charms student could have done it,” Carrow muttered.

Albus turned his back to the three boys, awaiting Professor Flitwick’s verdict on whether or not they could return to their beds. Students had, rather unusually, been asked to group with their family or closest friend’s family if they had none at Hogwarts instead of staying with the rest of their house, and so, Albus stood with Lucy, James, Fred, Roxanne, Rose, Lily, Louis and Hugo, huddled together around the top end of the Gryffindor table (for now made House neutral) in their pyjamas.

He, for one, found it remarkably awkward. His older cousins and James all sat with their heads together, whispering hurriedly, whilst Lily watched as Hugo and Louis played a game of wizarding chess. Albus was of course excluded from both activities and found himself bored, longing to go back to his dorm, back with his real family. At the beginning of each year, Professor Flitwick told the first years that their House would be their home and their housemates their family. Every year, Albus found this more and more true; even his mother was starting to treat him as an afterthought. His mother; who so many years ago had been saved from Voldemort by people who were not yet family, but would become so. His mother; who had been manipulated into opening the Chamber of Secrets by Lucius Malfoy; his best friend’s grandfather.

Albus looked around and saw Scorpius sitting at the far side of the room with his own cousins, Olivia and Isabella Zabini, and smiled when Scorpius caught his gaze; it was strange how things could change over no more than a generation.

“It must have been a seventh year; only seventh years are taught it, and a Professor certainly wouldn’t have done it,” Albus heard Lucy hiss at his brother, paraphrasing something she probably hadn’t heard from Carrow. He turned back to his family again as Professor Flitwick took to the podium, standing on a small stool before it that had been placed there when he became Headmaster after Professor McGonagall’s retirement.

“All students, with the exception of Head and Deputy Head Boy and Girl, must now return to their dorms. New passwords have been installed and all students should follow their House Prefects, who know the new passwords, to ensure they make it safely into their dorms. Morning classes have been cancelled-” At this, a group of first and second years at the back cheered, but were quickly hushed by the stern look of older pupils. “-but each dorm will have a visit from their Head of House to inform you of any other changes. Goodnight!” Professor Flitwick squeaked, stepping down from his stool.

* * *

 Albus lingered behind the younger Slytherins as he made his way back down towards his dorm. At the front marched Thorne along with his fellow prefects – minus Frank Longbottom, who was also Head Boy – and he had seen Thaddeus and Markus somewhere near the front, but he had not seen Carrow, or any of his other friends. His eyes scanned over the sea of heads, but he could not see those he considered family. A slow, cold panic started to wash over him, starting in his heart. Why couldn’t he find them? Had something terrible happened to them? And then a thought, so awful, so dreadful that it made his blood run cold entered his mind: What if one of them had been the one to open to Chamber?

“Albus! Al!” The voice, warm and worried, pulled Albus from his frightening realisation as Colt weaved his way around other students to find him. He sighed with relief. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Apparently Calin knows who it was!”

* * *

 Calin, as it turned out, knew nothing of the sort, and wasn’t even aware he was supposed to know anything. However, he had been worried about Albus, as it had been said that he had went missing. Both were just rumours, but Albus went to bed with the sickening realisation that one of his friends, one of his family, might be the heir of Slytherin.

* * *

 Alone in the library, Albus leafed through an old book on the founders of Hogwarts. Godric Gryffindor – brave, chivalrous, daring; Helga Hufflepuff – kind, tolerant, dedicated; Rowena Ravenclaw – creative, intelligent, witty; and Salazar Slytherin – cunning, ambitious, determined. It was said that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor were best friends, and often fought over students, as they liked the same qualities. The Sorting Hat had clearly changed in that way; Albus was nothing like the rest of his family.

The sound of footsteps caused him to look up and see a boy with the thick, wild hair of his father and the bright brown eyes of his mother, framed by square glasses, moving towards him with a determined expression set on his face. James Sirius Potter stood before his younger brother and crossed his arms.

“Albus,” he said, his eyes not moving from Albus’  
Albus raised his eyebrows; James seemed just as scared as he was determined. “Yes, James?”  
James’ eyes flicked down to the book in Albus’ hands. A sigh escaped his lips, and he uncrossed his arms. Albus simply watched his older brother’s uncomfortable behaviour, mildly amused by it.  
“Listen, Al, I know we’re not close or anything-”  
Albus laughed, a harsh, cruel sound, void of humour, interrupting James’ flow of speech. “Close? Close? James, last time we spoke, you told me never to speak to you here because you didn’t want your friends to know you still talk to me! You told me that I shouldn’t speak about you, or any of our family, to my friends because you didn’t want anything about our family to be known by ‘those kind of people’!”  
“Just listen to me, okay?” James slammed his hands down on the table.  
Albus raised an eyebrow; his brother was known for his temper, it hadn’t scared him in a long time.  
“We both know that there’s a high possibility that the Heir of Slytherin is a Slytherin-”  
“Do we?” Albus hissed, the threat clear in his voice.  
James glared at him. “Shut up and listen to me!” Albus laughed again, but James continued on anyway, “So there is a likelihood that your friends have opened the Chamber. I want you to stop hanging around with them and stick with us.”  
“Stick with you? After you chose to abandon me when I was in first year, just because of the colours of my robes?” Albus barked, the volume of his voice slowly creeping upwards until his last word was more of a screech than anything.  
“Mr. Potter! Do keep your voice down! This is a library, as you may have failed to notice, and people are trying to study!” The Librarian, Madam Edgington shouted over to them, breaking her own rules.  
“Sorry, Madam,” the boys apologised in chorus, sounding more bored than apologetic, before they turned back to one another, eyes set in equal anger.  
“No, Albus, you chose to be separate from us. You think everyone treats you differently since you became a Slytherin, but the truth is, you treat us differently. We haven’t changed, you have,” James hissed.  
Albus took a step back from his elder brother and started shoving books into his bag. “You are a liar, James,” he decried, his voice low; and evermore dangerous for it, not looking up from his bag, “Why would I chose to have my family hate me?” He finally looked up at his brother, his green eyes wet, glaring into his brown orbs. He didn’t brush away the tears, didn’t acknowledge his hurt. “The truth is this; you are not my family, not anymore, and you never will be ever again.” Albus threw his bag over his shoulder and stormed out from the library. He blinked his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall, and ignored the heart crushing disappointment when his brother didn’t follow.

* * *

 Scorpius looked like some kind of ghostly oil painting when Albus came across him in the clock tower, dressed in pale blue jeans and an even paler grey jumper. The light that passed through the massive windows was white, making his skin and hair glow. In that moment, Scorpius was the most stunning, unearthly being Albus had even seen, and he found himself wondering how he could possibly fancy Carrow, when this angel stood in front of him.

And then a cloud passed over the sun and Scorpius became human again, delicately featured, and most definitely pretty, but nothing more than that, just Scorpius, just his best friend. The older boy turned and smiled when he saw Albus, that strange look in his eyes again, before he turned back to watch the pendulum swing back and forth. Albus stood by his side, dropped down his bag, and sighed.

“You alright?” Scorpius asked, his grey eyes concerned as they took in Albus’ tired, worn-out looking face.  
“I think I just cut off all chances of ever making it okay with my family again.”  
For a moment, Scorpius just kept looking at him, before he threw an arm around his best friend’s shoulder and pulled him close, resting his cheek atop the shorter Slytherin’s head. “You’ve always got me. And Luce, and Carrow, and Colt, and Thorne.”  
Albus felt his sadness bubble up in his chest, constrict his throat, and come trickling out in fat tears that ran down his pale cheeks before plopping down off his chin and onto the floor. He leaned into Scorpius as his shoulders shook.

When Albus had quite finished, he drew away and saw dark blue stains on Scorpius’ jumper where he had sobbed against him. He looked up at his best friend and gave a watery smile.  
“Sorry about that.”  
Scorpius only smiled back in return. His expression turned thoughtful, then excited. His eyes had taken on the strange expression again, but there was something else in them now, something of the same, but hotter.  
“Listen, Al, about last night...” He trailed off, gazing into Albus’ eyes.  
Albus frowned. “What about last night?”  
Scorpius’ eyebrows rose sceptically before he smirked; apparently understanding something Albus didn’t. “There’s no one else here, you don’t have to lie about it.” His voice was low and - dare Albus say it? - seductive.  
“Lie about what?” Clearly confused, Albus looked up to his best friend, and watched as the smirk fell from his face, a very dark expression growing in its place.  
“You know what about, Albus.” Anger had replaced the seductiveness in Scorpius’ voice, and Albus realised he had obviously given the wrong answer to a question he wasn’t aware had been asked.  
“Scorp, I really have-” Albus cut himself off as he watched Scorpius’ face twist into something more furious than he had ever seen.  
“Fuck off, Albus. You’re such a prick.”  
Albus was left, alone and confused, as Scorpius stormed off, bag slung over his shoulder, quietly noting the hurt strain on the last word, completely oblivious as to what he had said wrong.

* * *

 For the rest of the day, no matter how hard he looked, Albus couldn’t find Scorpius.  
“Don’t worry, Al, he was probably just in a bad mood. You know how he is,” Colt assured him that evening in the Great Hall when Scorpius hadn’t come up for dinner. Albus was not convinced. Yes, Scorpius threw angry, sulking fits every now and then, but never unprovoked, and never at Albus. He took a sip from his pumpkin juice, and tried to calm his mind. He concentrated on noting everything that was going on around him.

Opposite him sat Lucinda, wrapped in a heated discussion with Carrow and Thorne, who sat on her left and right sides respectively, about the best method of making Felix Felicis. On Albus’ right sat Colt, who was very decidedly not looking at Avery, who sat on his right and was talking animatedly with another fifth year Slytherin girl Albus didn’t know.

It was almost always awkward between the two since the September of Colt’s fifth year and Avery’s fourth when their three year relationship had ended with Avery announcing that, in fact, she liked girls. What she did not announce was that she liked, in particular, one girl; Lucinda, as she had angrily confided in Albus one night after catching Calin and Lucinda snogging rather enthusiastically in the Astronomy Tower. How Lucinda did not know of Avery’s affections was beyond Albus, it was painfully obvious, though recently, her attention was turning more and more towards Li Li Hemsworth, a sixth year Ravenclaw, the daughter of Cho Chang and her muggle husband, and best friend of Colt’s current girlfriend Annia Sadowski.

Sprawled out across the table was an assortment of food. It was shooting season, so most of the food was poultry; duck in plum and artichoke sauce, pheasant wrapped in bacon with butternut squash and parsnips, roast snipe with elderberry dipping sauce. There were other things too; pumpkin and cinnamon soup, pear and apple pie, roast beef, but at this time of year, most people ate the birds. Albus downed the last of his pumpkin juice and stood.

“I’ve got a load of homework to do, I’ll see you later,” he said to his friends as their curious eyes fell upon him.  
“You’ve barely eaten!” Lucinda exclaimed, sounding just like his Grams. He had a vision of Lucinda then, dressed in the singed orange and brown dresses his Grams wore, and one of her colourful woollen cardigans, and a smile crossed his face.  
“I’m just not hungry, Luce.”  
She frowned, but protested no more as he left.

* * *

 It was October, and at seven o’clock, the sun had already set. The night air was still, the distinctive chill that came with the beginning of autumn biting Albus’ bare hands. He shoved them deep into his cloak pockets, scared that if he returned to the common room to retrieve his dragon hide gloves someone would be there to distract him, and he did not want to be distracted.

In one day, he had managed to lose both Scorpius and his family. How stupid was he?  
_Very, obviously,_ the voice in his head told him, sounding mildly amused at his heartache.  
Albus ground his teeth in frustration. The voice hadn’t bothered him in almost two weeks, why was it starting up again now  
Y _ou broke Scorpius’ heart. How can you expect him to be okay with that?_  
He frowned. Broke Scorpius’ heart; how could he have done that? It wasn’t as if he loved him.  
_Yes he does, or did, you knew that, but you denied it anyway. You saw the way he looked at you, you knew what it meant,_ the voice snarled at him.  
“Who are you?!” Albus shouted, angry at the voice, refusing to believe a word he said, but knowing somewhere in him it was true. The loudness of his own voice startled him out of him anger. Who are you?  
_Who do you think I am?_  
He had no answer. I am you, or who you could be, who you will be.  
That makes no sense, Albus thought back at the voice. This was not him, he would not say such things! He would not lie to himself, not like he had before.  
_Doesn’t it?_ Asked the voice, again sounding amused.  
Albus bristled. No, he mentally snapped at the voice. No, it bloody well does not. No answer came, but Albus could have sworn he heard malicious laughing, not inside his own head, but outside.

* * *

 “Oh, Albus! There you are!” The shout came to Albus as soon as he stepped onto the Grand Staircase, full of relief. “Colt, Albus is over here!” The voice was that of Emilie Jean Bordeaux Caster, her Hufflepuff scarf wound snugly around her neck, golden curls bouncing down her back as she ran towards him. She stopped dead in front of him, looking up at him with huge brown eyes. This was Colt’s best friend.

“Al!” Colt shouted as he ran up behind her. His voice was wracked with worry. “Where have you been?”  
Albus’ brows drew together in a questioning frown. “Just out in the grounds. Why?”  
“Merlin’s beard Al; where have you been? We’ve looked everywhere for you.” Thorne and Carrow both came stalking up behind him, matching irritated expressions sculpting their faces.  
“Where’s Luce and Scorp?” he asked as an answer, understanding that something was very wrong. If something had happened to Scorp when they had fallen out...  
“Scorp’s still up in the common room, and Luce is with Calin looking for you,” Thorne explained. He looked at Carrow. “We’d best go get them.” The pair walked off then, still not telling Albus why they had been so worried about them.

* * *

 “Someone’s been petrified, Al, the Professors won’t tell us who yet, and when nobody could find you... Well, we thought it was you,” Colt told him as they headed down the back spiral staircase to the dungeons. The air was colder here than the rest of the castle and the torches dimmer, with water occasionally dripped onto the head of the innocent by passer, and as such foul looking black mould grew where the walls met the ceiling. Hardly anybody used this staircase normally, but today Slytherins of various ages milled about. “The main staircase is closed off for now; that’s where the person was petrified.”

As the pair slid into the Slytherin common room – Emilie Jean having left them just after Thorne and Carrow arrived – Albus caught sight of Scorpius. The older boy looked up at the newcomers from the book he had been reading, scowled, and stormed off down the stairs to the boys’ bedroom. Albus sighed; clearly there would be no talking to him that night.

“Back, are you?” Avery asked, her voice portraying mild irritation, as Colt and Albus sat down on the sofa beside her. “Me and Scorpius looked everywhere for you. He was terrified.”  
Albus gulped, guilt twisting his gut, but before he had a chance to reply, a pale hand had slapped him around the head.  
“Ow!” he screeched, turning round to see Lucinda standing behind him, hands on her hips, pale eyebrows drawn together as far as they would go, her mouth set in a line of fury.  
“Everybody was worried about you!” She sat down on the soft leather armchair next to him, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. Carrow squeezed in next to her, though really there was not enough space for him, and Thorne perched on the arm.  
“Calm down, Luce,” Thorne reprimanded her as Carrow shifted position to braid part of her hair. “He’s here now.”  
Lucinda said nothing, but was clearly not impressed. Albus felt anger grow in his stomach. It wasn’t his fault Scorpius wasn’t talking to him! And even if what the voice had said was true, they haven’t done anything the other night, or any night for that matter.

Albus asked a question to deter himself from getting any angrier. “Have we found out who it was yet?”  
“The guy that was petrified?” Carrow asked, shrugging. “Some Ravenclaw first year doing some extra potions.”  
“Was he a mudblood?” Lucinda asked, then quietly cursed herself; Albus knew it was habitual calling muggle borns mudbloods, that the literal translation for the Russian word for muggle born – her first language – was ‘one with dirty blood’, but still he felt Colt, who was a closer friend of hers than him, flinch beside him.  
“Yeah… a muggle born.”  
“It always starts with the muggle borns,” Avery muttered, and then there was no more discussion on the matter as Avery walked away to sit with a group of fifth years, followed by Lucinda who curled up with Calin in the wide, black velvet armchair by the green-flamed fire, but still Albus could not get away from the feeling that one of them, one of his own, had done the petrification.

* * *

 Albus watched as the blond man swirled the dark red wine in his glass and looked up at the dark haired woman through his eyelashes. Albus felt a stab of pain shoot through his chest, as if someone had sent an arrow straight through his heart. The blood that oozed out of the wound was green, and when Albus looked back at the pair on the other side of the room, his vision was tinged green.  
_How can he do this to me?!_ The voice in his head screamed. _He’s supposed to love me!  
_ Albus flinched.

He didn’t know the man, or the woman, or the voice in his head, but they had a vague sense of familiarity to them.

_And her, she’s just a slut, a whore! She’s just using him! He must know that, surely he must know that? He isn’t an idiot, but then neither is she. Neither am I. I know what she’s doing, doesn’t he understand. It was supposed to be just us, just the two of us, together. This was our project, our work, and she thinks she can just worm her way in, does she?_

“Are you alright, dear?” A voice said from beside Albus. He turned to face the round, short woman, still furious with the blond man and unaware of whom he was.  
“I’m not your dear, and I’m perfectly alright,” he snapped at her, turning back to the pair as pain and worry settled in the woman’s face. She too, looked familiar, but he had no clue as to who she was.  
“It is wonderful here, don’t you think? You and Godric have made it quite lovely. How brilliant it would be to live here, as you two do.”

Albus ignored the plump, ginger woman’s insistent chatter, and watched with the green eyes of envy as the blond man tucked a lock of dark hair behind the other woman’s ear, and she laughed at something he had said. Her hand: pale, elegant, delicate, moved to rest on his knee. He took it and brought it up to his lips. Albus, still unknowing of who they were, could kill them both, and this annoying woman beside him.

_She’s manipulating him, and if I don’t do anything about it she’ll ruin everything! She’ll be the one he tells his secrets to, not me, she’ll be the one he takes long walks with around the garden, not me, she’ll be the one in his bed, not me!_

_I can’t let that happen. I must distract him, but how?_  

Albus spotted a sword beside the blond man, the handle encrusted with rubies. He stood and walked over to the man. Startled, the pair looked up at him. A scowl grew on the woman’s face, but a surprised laugh burst from the man.

“Ah, friend, come to see my new sword, have you?” The lifted the sword from its place and motioned for Albus to sit down beside him. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Goblin made, obviously.” The man looked at Albus, his bright blue eyes shining, and without the woman being able to see him, winked suggestively. Albus heart fluttered so ferociously, he couldn’t see, and then everything was cold.


	4. Chapter 3: Blood, Guts and Deadly Eyes

* * *

 The grey morning light filtered in through the high windows of the sixth year Slytherin boy’s bedroom, throwing long shadows across the rectangular room and softly highlighting Albus’ sleeping face. Scorpius slept soundly in the bed next to Albus’, the light missing his eyes and making his white hair glow softly, like the halo of a resting angel. The dark shapes of the three boys opposite were lost to the darkness.

Albus woke with a start, throwing himself up into a sitting position, his breath bursting out of his lungs only to be sucked back in again with a burning greed. He looked around the room once before falling onto his back, staring up at the white, ornately decorated ceiling. He was insane, he must be; only insane people had recurring dreams. He sucked in a final shuddering breath, running a pale hand through his dark hair before sitting up again and sliding on his slippers. The other boys were clearly fast asleep still, but he couldn’t just lie there with his thoughts swirling around, wrapping themselves up in blond men and swords and red wine.

As he stood, a dark stain on even darker wood caught his eye. Blood. The mark was small, only the size of a Knut and had clearly been there a few hours, mostly dried in already. Albus’ eyes flicked to the floor by the door and found a slightly larger, drier mark. A wave of nausea washed over him as his stomach knotted with anxiety. He screwed up his eyes a couple of times to see if it would make the stains go away, an unwanted reminder of his disturbing dreams, but when he opened them again, the stains were still there, and so was his impending sense of dread.

* * *

 The Great Hall was already bustling with people when Albus finally arrived after an unscheduled, lonesome Quidditch practise. First years sat huddled in small groups around the end of benches, their faces small and wary of the floating pumpkins suspended above their heads. Albus had quite forgotten it was Halloween; maybe, just maybe, the blood in his room had been fake, a prank by Thorne and Carrow, but as he slid into the bench opposite the two boys, he knew he was wrong.

“Who are you taking to Slughorn’s dinner, Al?” Avery appeared from nowhere, her dark red hair thrown up into a loose bun, popping a small piece of pumpkin pie into her mouth, and looking at him as if her life depended on his answer. “I was going to take Scorp but…” But Scorpius still wasn’t talking to him after two whole weeks. Two weeks of Albus being ignored in their shared classes, failing half his homeworks and generally feeling the ache of being alone. But Albus had had enough of apologising for nothing, and if Scorpius wanted to talk to him again, he could start by apologising for being so ridiculous. “Hmm, well, I’ll go with you,” Avery said, cutting through his muddled thoughts. She grimaced as she swallowed whatever else she had managed to eat when he wasn’t looking; “Mum thinks I’m going anyway, she sent me a dress.” Laughter suddenly rang in his head, cold and mirthless; They have no idea; such petty lives. Shut up! Albus shouted at the voice in his head, but quietly, privately, he agreed; someone here was trying to kill them all, and all Avery cared about was getting to wear a pretty dress. “Okay,” was all he actually said. Avery eyed him quietly for a moment, but said nothing more on the subject.

* * *

Albus wanted to vomit as he watched the wall bleed. He held his breath in an effort to stop the slightly coppery smell invading his senses, but it didn’t work. The smell was already there, forcing his gut to churn uncontrollably, trying to make his semi-digested breakfast make a prompt exist from his stomach.

_“The Chamber takes what it needs.”_

Vaguely, Albus could hear screaming, shrieking. He wanted to turn away, to look for the person who the screams belonged to, simply to run away, but his feet wouldn’t move, stuck to the floor as if they had grown roots as strong as the Whomping Willow’s. His hands grasped for the banister behind him, looking for a way to escape, and felt his lungs suddenly expand with a huge gasp, and he realised it was his own screams he could hear muffled inside his head.

“Mr. Potter!” a different, high voice shouted, but Albus couldn’t bring himself to look away from the bloody message on the wall. “Mr. Potter!”  
He finally turned to see Professor Flitwick racing towards him, his small features narrowed in a look of extreme concern.  
“Albus!” The professor reached out to him as he neared, grabbed his arm and started pulling him away. “Mr. Potter, you mustn’t stay here. Go to my office, immediately.”  
Albus stared at him, not quite registering what he was saying.  
“Go, now!” The professor gave him one final push in the direction of the staircase as Madam Eldridge came rushing up towards him. She barely gave him a glance as she passed him, her eyes fixated on the words on the wall.

Albus felt impossibly like his father as he darted down the stairs, navigating the moving staircase with an unconscious ease. Younger students stared at him as he passed, irritation flashing in their eyes as he pushed past and weaved his way around them. “Sorry,” he heard himself say, though it was disconnected, as if everything was disconnected from him. The students around him, the load thunk of the staircase as it moved into different positions, even the distant call of his name by a familiar voice.

The blood on the bedroom floor this morning, the blood on the wall now, there was doubting it, one of his friends, one of his _family_ , had went into the Chamber of Secrets and released the beasts within.

* * *

The Headmaster’s office was a huge, circular room, all the light streaming in from a massive window that took up most of the back part of the wall. Shelves lined the left section of the wall, stuffed full of books and trinkets and floating things. Professor Flitwick’s pale grey cat lay sprawling across the desk in the centre of the room, basking in the sunlight.

At first, Albus assumed the soft snoring was coming from the cat, until it flicked open its glowing green eyes and yawned sleepily. The snoring didn’t stop. He laced at the right side of the wall to see it covered in portraits. Albus recognised some of the people; Phineas Black up in the right hand corner, Ambrose Swatt close to the centre, Professor McGonagall directly before Albus, Severus Snape just above. But it was the portrait of Albus Dumbledore that caught Albus’ eye. His namesake wasn’t sleeping, unlike all the others, his piercing blue eyes trained on Albus. He looked ancient, his face lined and creased at all areas, increasing in depth around his eyes and mouth.

“Hello, Albus,” Dumbledore said quietly, his voice soft and warm. Albus stood speechless beneath him, green eyes staring into crystal clear blue. “You do look like your father.”

Albus felt the portrait might say more, but at that exact moment, Professor Flitwick burst into the room, striding past Albus and throwing himself into the seat behind his desk. His cat leapt to the floor, leaving the papers in a mess before Flitwick.

“Mr. Potter,” Flitwick said, gesturing with long fingers to the suddenly appeared chair before the desk. “Have a seat.”  
Albus watched Dumbledore’s portrait for a second more, but the old man had went silent, his eyes drooping.  
“Yes, Professor?” Albus asked, trying not the scratch the arms of the chair. They were going to think it was him, him that had opened the chamber, that hated mudbloods, that wanted to kill them all. The elderly professor shifted in his seat, fidgeting with the papers on his desk. If Albus hadn’t know better, he would have said he was nervous.  
“Did you open the Chamber of Secrets?” Flitwick wasn’t looking him in the eye, his gaze settled just to his left. Albus fought the urge to turn and look, and kept his eyes firmly on the man in front of him.  
 _They’ll never trust you. You, whose father is great, but who is nothing. Who betrayed them all-_   
Enough! Albus snapped at the voice in his head. Just shut up.  
The voice laughed. _They are scum. You know they are; they don’t trust you, of all people, after what the chamber did to you._  
Albus ignored the voice, ignored the question it had sparked in his brain.  
“No.”  
“Do you know who did?” The second question came so quickly Albus wondered why he had taken so long to reply. Flitwick was looking at him closely now, his sharp eyes narrowing as they gazed into bright green. And so the investigation began.

* * *

 He felt drained. Six hours he’d spent in that room, answering question after question after question. Professor Flitwick’s voice would be forever ingrained on his brain, growing more and more weary as the day drew on, the sunlight once throwing bright morning light into the room now gone completely, the only light from outside coming from the cold reflection of the moon.

The common room was still buzzing with life, people mulling around or holed up in tight knit groups. Albus had no intention of speaking to his friends; he wanted to sleep until his brain stopped aching, his eyes stopped burning.

“Al,” a voice called out to him. Carrow, sitting beside Throne and Lucinda on a dark green leather sofa, his shoulders laced with tension, dark brown eyes wide with worry.  
 _And mistrust_ , added the voice.  
“I’m off to bed,” he replied softly, hearing his own weariness thick on his voice. He turned to walk down the stairs to his dorm, but a warm hand latched onto his shoulder and span him around.  
Colt was looking at him with a tired, slightly irritated expression, his hand still on his shoulder.  
“Come sit with us for a minute,” he said quietly and walked off towards the other three already sitting.  
Albus frowned; this felt strange. They were all sitting in a sort of circle, all staring at him with variations of the same expression; worried.

As he sat, Thorne began to speak; “Are you alright, Albus?”  
The younger boy blinked at the direct, unflinching tone the dark eyes boy had used and felt anger bubble up inside him, the heat of fury licking his insides.  
“Oh yes, life is just wonderful,” he spat out, making a move to rise again. They blamed him, of course they did. Of course this bunch of Death Eater children would blame him, him, whose father had saved the world.  
“Don’t be like that Al.”  
“Why not?” he was shouting, but somehow he could hardly hear himself. “You’re supposed to be my friends, and instead of supporting me, I come back from an interrogation from Flitwick and get another one from all of you!”  
They said nothing at that, just looked at him slack-jawed. A wave of triumph washed over him.  
 _Yes_ , the voice his head hissed. _You are better than them._  
Yes, he was, wasn’t he?  
“We’re not interrogation you-”  
“Oh really? Because that’s what it feels like. None of you trust me an inch, even though it’s more likely you that opened the Chamber. My family fought against Voldemort; yours all helped him,” the final sentence came out as a hiss, barely audible. Part of him regretted it as soon as it was said, but it was only a small part, and the part that felt justice at it crushed it with glee.  
Fury, white hot and flaming poured out of Lucinda’s eyes. Carrow wasn’t looking at him, but he could see the tense line of his jaw. Hit a nerve had he? Good.

He went to speak again, to hit the nail in deeper, when someone grabbed his arm with a strength enough to break it and dragged him away. He turned to spit venom at the perpetrator to see it was Calin pulling him away. Next thing he knew, he was up against a wall. The older boy wasn’t touching him, his gaze held him there with strength enough.  
“What the fuck are you doing?” Calin growled, his arms crossed across his slender chest.  
 _He’s even nicer when he’s angry_ , the voice in Albus’ head leered. Albus wanted to reach out and stroke him arm. More than that actually, a lot more. He felt reckless, immortal, like he could burn the world and live.  
“It doesn’t matter,” Calin said before Albus had the chance to even attempt to defend himself. “Go to bed, you’ll realise what an idiot you are in the morning.”  
Albus felt drunk, still on a high from his self-righteous fury, but did as Calin said without a word.

He could hear laughter in his head, not his own, as he fell asleep.

* * *

 Albus ate alone, walked alone, slept alone, studied alone. Slughorn’s party came and went, Avery was technically his date, but she wouldn’t utter a word to him, and spent most of her time with Lucinda, without even a glance in his direction. Even Slughorn had avoided him, asking him quickly how his family were and then making his excuses and turning to some lanky third years. He was even left out of the Quidditch practise banter, left to fetch the snitch and do no more.

The weather had turned cold over the days following Halloween, the first snow of the season settling over the huge grounds as Albus trekked his way up to the Owlery. The chill wind bit at his glove covered fingers, swirling around his robes and freezing his face. He pulled his green and silver scarf closer to his face, covering his mouth and nose, trying to pass the burning in his eyes off as the wind rather than the beginning of tears. Because he had realised what an idiot he had been the next morning, and the next, and the next, when not one person would speak to him. He had successfully alienated everyone, his friends, his family, and now he was alone. Completely and utterly alone. His hand tightened possessively around the letter in his hand, the letter to the only person the still cared about him.

As he stared up the stairs to the upper floors of the Owlery where his family Owl stayed, he saw a flash of red-brown bushy hair, and then his cousin stood before him, her huge blue eyes startled even larger. And then, much to Albus’ surprise, she smiled.

“Oh Albus,” she said, and threw her arms around him.  
He didn’t mean to, as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, he really didn’t mean to, but a sob escaped him cold chapped lips. He clung to her as he cried, and she clung back, making small, soothing noises an stroking his hair like he used to when they were children.  
“I’m sorry,” he forced out as he finally stood on his own feet, supressing the last of his tears and wiping at his blazing green eyes. Rose just smiled back at him, worry still creasing her brow.  
“We’re so worried about you. _I’m_ so worried about you,” Rose quickly corrected herself seeing the way Albus flinched at the plural. “Talk to me.”

And so they talked, for minutes for hours for days, Albus couldn’t tell how long. About nothing and everything, they talked, and at the end, Albus felt so much lighter, like he might be able to continue on for a few more weeks.

“There was blood on our dorm room floor, Rosie,” he said towards the end, looking at the stone beneath his feet. She took so long to reply he wasn’t sure she’d heard, and when she did, it began with a sigh.  
“It could have been anything Al,” she looked at him, knowing as well as him that, yes, it could have been anything, but it wasn’t.  
“Yeah,” he conceded, not quite meeting her eyes.  
“I need to go,” she said. “I’m meeting Lily.” Lily, his little sister he hadn’t spoken to properly in years.  
He stood, and extended a hand to his cousin. She grabbed it.  
“I’ll see you soon, Al.”  
“I’ll see you soon, Rosie.”

* * *

 Another week passed, and the nights drew ever closer together, sunlight hardly even shining its cold light onto the ancient walls of Hogwarts; it’s dark when first classes of the day start, and just as dark when the classes end. But the bitterness of the winter didn’t quite manage to force its way under the doors or the cracks in the unused classroom windows, and even the Slytherin common room is as cosy as ever, even if the Black Lake started to freeze over.

Albus longed for the warmth of the castle walls as he hiked back from the snow covered grounds and his secret meeting with his cousin. They’d sat in Hagrid’s hut, drinking hot chocolate out of gigantic cups, marshmallows not so much smaller than Albus’ fist floating in the dark brown, steaming liquid, and talked like they were still children, and for a couple of hours Albus forgot himself, his worries. He almost managed to forget about Scorpius too, but not quite. The blond’s face still lingered in his memory, no matter where he was, or what he was doing, and the sharp twist he felt in his gut when he thought of his best friend, former best friend now, he supposed, told him it was going to be quite some time before he forgot that lazy, feline smile and those sharp grey eyes.

Hagrid was the same as he always was; huge, kind, unchanging. His surprise, if he was, had been excellently hidden behind a warm, gentle smile at Albus’ appearance at his home after years of his absence. He had spoken about his new creatures, and laughed at the stories Rose told him, and Albus felt a little bit more like himself, as if the hut had somehow drawn away some of the bitterness he’d held onto for so long.

Alone in the cold, the bitterness returned tenfold, and Albus’ shattered heart ached for the sound of his friends’ laughter, of their comfort when he needed it. He was going to apologise, he had to, this was eating away at him too much, and he’d let it go on for too long, he was starting to become hollow.

* * *

 “Albus!” he whipped around at the sound of his name, casting around for the source of the noise. Emilie Jean was rushing towards him, her face tight with worry, shoving past a group of fourth years milling around in the hallway.

Something was wrong, very wrong, he could feel it in the marrow of his bones as she stepped in front of him, brown eyes swimming with unshed tears. He moved closer to her, to put his hand on her arm, to somehow comfort her, but she stepped back, shaking her head, golden curls flying everywhere.  
“It’s Colt,” she started, her voice breaking over his name. A small sob escaped her lips, and she allowed Albus to gather her into his arms.  
“What’s Colt? What’s happened, Emilie?” he said quietly into her hair. Another sob ripped out of her throat, and she clung to him tighter. He wanted to remove her arms then, force the words she was refusing to say out of her. He forced himself to say it again, just as quiet, just as soft, when really it was all he could do to stop himself from shaking her.  
“He’s been petrified!” she cried out, drawing away from him, tears now freely flowing down her cheeks. Dread twisted his stomach, and fear. He needed to see him now, to apologise to make him know it was alright.

At least, a small part of him said, and was it him, not that voice, that means he’s not the Heir.

* * *

 Albus watched as the blond man swirled the dark red wine in his glass and looked up at the dark haired woman through his eyelashes. Albus felt a stab of pain shoot through his chest, as if someone had sent an arrow straight through his heart. The blood that oozed out of the wound was green, and when Albus looked back at the pair on the other side of the room, his vision was tinged green.

_How can he do this to me?!_ The voice in his head screamed. _He’s supposed to love me!_   
Albus flinched.

He didn’t know the man, or the woman, or the voice in his head, but they had a vague sense of familiarity to them.

_And her, she’s just a slut, a whore! She’s just using him! He must know that, surely he must know that? He isn’t an idiot, but then neither is she. Neither am I. I know what she’s doing, doesn’t he understand. It was supposed to be just us, just the two of us, together. This was our project, our work, and she thinks she can just worm her way in, does she?_  

Are you alright, dear?” A voice said from beside Albus. He turned to face the round, short woman, still furious with the blond man and unaware of whom he was.  
“I’m not your dear, and I’m perfectly alright,” he snapped at her, turning back to the pair as pain and worry settled in the woman’s face. She too, looked familiar, but he had no clue as to who she was.  
“It is wonderful here, don’t you think? You and Godric have made it quite lovely. How brilliant it would be to live here, as you two do."

Albus ignored the plump, ginger woman’s insistent chatter, and watched with the green eyes of envy as the blond man tucked a lock of dark hair behind the other woman’s ear, and she laughed at something he had said. Her hand: pale, elegant, delicate, moved to rest on his knee. He took it and brought it up to his lips. Albus, still unknowing of who they were, could kill them both, and this annoying woman beside him.

_She’s manipulating him, and if I don’t do anything about it she’ll ruin everything! She’ll be the one he tells his secrets to, not me, she’ll be the one he takes long walks with around the garden, not me, she’ll be the one in his_ bed _, not me!_

_I can’t let that happen. I must distract him, but how?_

Albus spotted a sword beside the blond man, the handle encrusted with rubies. He stood and walked over to the man. Startled, the pair looked up at him. A scowl grew on the woman’s face, but a surprised laugh burst from the man.

“Ah, friend, come to see my new sword, have you?” The lifted the sword from its place and motioned for Albus to sit down beside him. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Goblin made, obviously.” The man looked at Albus, his bright blue eyes shining, and without the woman being able to see him, winked.

* * *

 Albus woke with a start, panting into the night air, covered in a light sheen of sweat. The other three boys kept sleeping, completely unaware of Albus terror. He looked to the empty bed and swallowed, his throat dry and tense. Colt could have died, and the last thing he’d said to him was awful. He needed to fix this, to fix him.

He lay back in his cold sheets, and tried to force himself to go back to sleep, until the portrait of Godric Gryffindor hanging in Flitwick’s office swam into his head, and Albus realised why the blond man of his dreams was so familiar.


	5. Chapter 4: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy

* * *

 The common room was the same as ever, dark, warm and with everything tinged with a slightly green glow, as if nothing at all had happened, as if Colt wasn’t lying half dead in the hospital wing. It was that same green glow that made Scorpius hair look strange in the lake-filtered light, giving his normally alabaster skin a sickly tinge, as if he didn’t already bring enough attention to himself just by existing. As if the son of Draco Malfoy, grandson of Lucius Malfoy, two of the most cowardly, infamous Death Eaters, who looked painfully like them both, didn’t get gawked at everywhere he walked, as if he wasn’t whispered about behind his back at every opportunity, as if everyone, if they were honest, hadn’t expected him to be exactly like his father and grandfather as soon as the Sorting Hat placed him firmly in Slytherin without a second thought.

He signed as he turned the corner into the common room, a group of young girls watching him with strange expressions of excitement and horror from where they were huddled by one of the windows. He ignored them, like he always did, just like he ignored the sultry eyes one of the fifth year girls was giving him from a couch on the other side of the room; clearly she’d been here long enough to realise he wasn’t dangerous, or perhaps that was part of the appeal. Scorpius, frankly, didn’t get it, or particularly care.

Carrow, Thorne and Lucinda were in their usual spot, curled up on one of the dark green leather sofas, Carrow’s long fingers in Lucinda’s white hair, Thorne watching them, bored and ever so slightly suspicious. The boy’s dark eyes flicked up to him as he walked towards them, and a smile lit up his angular face. Scorpius smiled back, though it didn’t even begin to reach his pale eyes.

“You okay, Scorpy?” Lucinda asked as Scorpius slumped down in the armchair beside them. No, he was not okay, quite frankly, he was still furious and on the verge of breaking, but in truth they all knew that, so all he said was a sharp, short; “Fine.”

Carrow arched a thin eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Lucinda’s worried expression didn’t falter, but her gaze flickered to Carrow as Thorne said something to him quietly, so that only the four of them could hear, but Scorpius had already zoned out, his eyes settled on the green flames curling around the coals in the fire. Vaguely, he heard Lucinda laugh, and saw Carrow lean his arms over her shoulders towards Thorne out of the corner of his eye. A sharp noise from the dark haired boy made him look to them fully, and with a faint pang of jealousy, he watched as the three of them giggled, so close together one could be forgiven for thinking that they were much more than just best friends. Scorpius missed it, missed the closeness, the laughs, the muffled giggles, the inside jokes, the ache in his chest that Albus had occupied growing bigger and stronger every day they failed to talk. But he was a dick, worse, after what he’d said to his friends, to the people he always said were more him family than his blood relatives. Scorpius tried to hide his face as the tears started to bubble over, his throat tightening, nose burning, pressing a hand against his mouth as silent sobs started to rib through him.

“Scorp!” Thorne exclaimed when he looked at him, kind eyes wide and full of concern. The other two snapped their heads towards him, Lucinda almost automatically reaching for him and dragging him onto the couch with them as if he could possibly fit into the already overcrowded space. He allowed himself to cry silently onto her shoulder, Thorne rubbing his back, Carrow petting his hair, all whispering comforting words into his ear. Eventually, he made himself stop, the tears stopped pouring, his shoulders stopped shaking, and he sat up.

“Well,” Carrow said with a mischievous smirk as Scorpius wiped the wetness from his face. “Isn’t this cosy?” He waggled his eyebrows and Scorpius laughed, unable to help himself, the sound only wobbling slightly.  
Thorne only frowned at him. “You can talk to us, you know?”  
Scorpius nodded; “I know.” And he did know, knew it as he knew the sun would rise and set, knew it as he knew the exact shade of green of Albus’ eyes.

There was silence for a moment as he frowned at his fingernails, trying to force out the words they were waiting patiently for without his heart breaking entirely.

“I-” he cut himself off, terrified that his voice might crack as his let the words slip, eyes flitting up to the ceiling as he forced himself to swallow, to calm his breathing. “I just love him, you know?” he managed to croak out.

Lucinda reached out for him again, and he let her hold him, hold him until he calmed in her embrace, ready to face the world again outside these four faces, so familiar, so beloved to him he knew he would have shattered had they not been here to keep him together.

“And I thought he loved me too.”

* * *

 He let the letter fall from his hands onto the table before him, his mind swirling with accusations and confusions. His father’s hand writing was instantly recognisable, an elegant script, small and neat, normally reminding him of one thing or another, of his mother’s birthday – June 5th, not that he’d ever forgotten – or that he needed to bring back him broom, but he rarely gave advise, except that one time straight after the sorting ceremony when he’d hastily written _Does this mean I’m a bad person?_ and sent it before thinking, surprised and ever so pleased when the letter back had only said _Your mother was in Slytherin, so was your Aunt Andromeda_. It had meant no in the most comforting of terms.

This was both at once. Scorpius re-read the letter, half in astonishment, half in strange, uncomfortable agreement. Would Albus really open the Chamber? He made stupid decisions sometimes, yes, and yes, he did hate his family, but would he really do so much damage to wreak such a twisted sort of revenge? His own grandfather had been the cause of so much pain to Ginny Potter by opening the Chamber of Secrets, he couldn’t possibly hate them so much he’d kill innocents for the wicked reminder. Or was it a punishment to Lucius, via Scorpius, for treating his family so foully so many years ago? Surely impossible, but then why did he feel like vomiting from the dread settling in his stomach?

* * *

 

Scorpius said not a word as he paused in the doorway to the underground classroom his Potions lessons were held in, his normal seat beside Albus taken by a red haired girl he knew all too well, hatred simmering in his gut. Albus had clearly decided to forgive her for the years and years of wrong doings, and decided he, in fact, preferred her company over his. He swept past the cousins to take the stool beside Lucinda Colt would normally have, her eyes bloodshot, shining with unshed tears. He didn’t look at the pair behind him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding him to him as she picked at her fingers, forcing herself to remain calm, the absence of her long-time partner all the more obvious now that she was where she spent most of her time with him. Carrow and Thorne twisted around to look at him, two pairs of raised eyebrows and a tilt of heads towards Rose and Albus behind him. Still, he said nothing.

Slughorn grinned at him at the end of class, his cauldron full of a perfect specimen of Amortentia, clapping him on the back.  
“I see a change of partner has done you both good,” he said as he glanced to Albus, also with a perfect potion.

“She must have done it for him,” he hissed under his breath as Slughorn moved on, bitterness dripping from his voice.  
“Probably,” Lucinda agreed, secretly bottling a vial of her potion and placing it in her bag before throwing the rest of her possessions in. “But I did most of yours.”  
Scorpius glared at her as she smirked up at him, but as she winked he felt himself smile back at her, the comfort of her teasing easing him. They didn’t talk about what their potions smelled of, of the smell of grass and cinnamon that normally clung to Albus that wafted up at him.

As she, Carrow and Thorne heading upstairs for Arithmancy, he found himself alone, wandering the near empty corridors of the dungeons, nowhere to go on his free period, no one to be with. He turned a corner and saw yet another two Weasleys standing there, clearly waiting on him, twin scowls on the twins’ dark skinned faces. Great, just great.

Fred and Roxanne Weasley were by far the most attractive of the remaining Weasley brood at Hogwarts, probably due to the lack of fire red hair that the rest of them were cursed with. Even Albus’ sister had inherited it, the only one of the three not to look exactly like their father, and grandfather before him. They didn’t look particularly attractive now, in fact, they look positively menacing.

“I think,” Roxanne started, not moving from where she stood, brown eyes boring into his gaze he refused to flinch away from, “That you should stay away from our cousin.”  
Scorpius quirked an eyebrow, and forced the false smirk onto his angular face. “Care to specify?”  
Fred’s frown deepened, but still he remained silent. Roxanne barked a laugh, void of all humour.  
“Hilarious.” She moved a step closer, surprisingly graceful in her arrogant stride.  
He felt himself tense, his muscles going ridged, his mouth opening to say something, anything, to get himself out of what to appear to be a bad situation worsening.

“Don’t you three have somewhere to be?” Came a smooth, controlled voice from behind Scorpius, barely hinting at the anger beneath. The Weasley twins looked up to Calin, grinned defiantly, and left all the same, heading towards the staircase presumably back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Scorpius turned to see Calin looking at him, about to give his thanks, when he saw the strange, withered look on Calin’s normally serene features, the expression stopping in his tracks.

“I need you at Qudditch practise tonight, you’re filling in for Colt,” was all he said before spinning on his heel and walking back towards their own common room.

* * *

 Scorpius was so glad to be in bed, he thought he would sleep for days. Quiddtich practise had been harder, rougher than he’d imagined, the freeze from the snow mixing with ache in his under fit muscles and the horrible sensation that somehow his being here made things more real about Colt. He’d flown harder and faster than he ever had in his life, much better than the last time he’d auditioned and he was still subpar compared to Colt’s skills. But Scorpius found, lying there, exhausted as he was, that sleep was still evading him, too used to late night dalliances with Albus to let him drift now, especially having seen the boy flying around like he didn’t give a shit about him, about Colt, about any of them, and still the most gorgeous thing Scorpius had ever seen.

The grounds were even colder at midnight than they were when he’d trudged back from the Quidditch pitch despite the fact that his white hair, brushing is collar from it having been far too long since he’d had it cut, had been wet, and half frozen to his scalp. He shifted the long, thick scarf closer to his neck, in colours of silver and green, stuffing the ends down his robes, trying to keep some of the frigid air out.

He passed the pitches quickly, fighting the urge to run as if that would help the images of Colt, petrified, lying still as death of a hospital bed he hadn’t been to see yet. Hagrid’s hut was dark, no smoke blooming from its chimney, not that that had ever been an option anyway. He scurried down the steep hill, rushing past the half giant’s home and finding himself in a strange sort if courtyard he hadn’t been in since his last attempt at understanding Care of Magical Creatures. _Malfoy’s don’t do well with beasts_ , his father had told him when Scorpius had announced that he’d be studying the subject for his OWLs. He’d left after two weeks. He began to continue forward, his intended destination the edge of the dark forest, no more than a flirtation with the dangers within, when a voice, familiar, begging in a way unlike he’d ever heard him beg before, assaulted his ears.

“No, _please_ ,” Albus was pleading, standing just a few feet away, his pale hands tugging at his dark hair, the look on his face contorted in pain and what looked suspiciously like guilt. Then, like some kind of switch, the other boy’s face smoothed, his features taking on a smug, powerful expression, an expression Scorpius had seen so many times in the past year, always at night, always when they were alone, just before Albus would pounce for him, kissing him until both their lungs burned with the need to breathe. Now, Albus’ lips were moving, silently, and the change in him made Scorpius feel sick to his stomach, the sudden knowledge that when Albus was like this something was wrong, burning through his blood.

Albus changed again, his voice returned. “No, no, no more. _No more_ , I can’t do this!”

Scorpius couldn’t take it, couldn’t take the agony in his once best friend’s voice. He moved forward, Albus barely noticing, and grabbed his upper arm, spinning him to face him. The shorter boy’s face flickered for a second, relief skittering over his features, before that other face took over, the wrong Albus returning.

“Go.” The voice didn’t belong to Albus, too deep, too dark, too powerful. He wanted to stay, to scream for this other being to let go of the boy he loved, but he found he couldn’t. His feet were moving, guiding him forcefully back to the castle, back to the dungeon, controlled by some spell he couldn’t detect. Even as he lay in his bed, the spell kept him, even as he sobbed, even as he called out for his best friend over and over, even as sleep claimed him.

“ _Albus_.”

* * *

 “There’s something wrong with him,” Scorpius muttered to Thorne as the pair made their way to charms class alone, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was within hearing distance.  
“Anyone could have told you that, Scorp,” was Thorne’s bitter reply, clearly not understanding the gravity of the conversation.  
“I’m being serious! He was talking to himself and everything, and he looked-”Scorpius cut himself off, trying to think of a word, any word that would convey the twisted nature of Albus’ night rambling other than insane. “Unwell.”  
Thorne looked over at him, his dark brows drawing together over darker eyes, lips thinning. He opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut as they entered the classroom.

“Hello boys,” Professor Ovenden, Professor Flitwick’s replacement, smiled at them as they walked in, gesturing for them to take their seats. Anastasia Airebrighte, Thorne’s long term girlfriend and one of the Gryffindor prefects, had already taken her seat, separating the Slytherin side of the room from the Gryffindors.

Thorne’s slipped into the seat beside her, Scorpius taking the one on his other side. Anastasia was sweet, kinder than the rest of Thorne’s friends, and he knew Lucinda disliked her for it, but where Lucinda and Carrow were bright and loud and hard, Anastasia was soft. Scorpius understood the appeal.

The young professor started speaking as the room filled up, scribbling on the chalkboard behind her and ordered to open their books. Thorne shifted slightly towards Scorpius, brown eyes on Ovenden still.

“What do you mean, unwell?”  
“He looked ill Thorne. He was arguing with himself but his whole body language was changing as he argued, like-” Scorpius cut himself off as Ovenden sent him an irritated look before continuing on with his lecture.  
Thorne pretended not to notice, continuing to copy down what their professor wrote on the board, but the nudge he sent to Scorpius’ side was far from subtle.  
“Like there was someone speaking through him. Not like he was really arguing with himself, but like someone was taking over him,” he finished in a whispered rush, eyes not moving from his parchment. It sounded ridiculous to his own ears, but that’s exactly what it had looked like, now that Scorpius thought about it, truly. The way his expression and posture had changed as he argued, the way his voice changed weren’t normal, not nearly, and Scorpius would surely have noticed if Albus had really been unwell. Someone, or something, was doing this to Albus, making him this way.

Both Thorne and Anastasia said nothing, but Scorpius could see the glance they shared, both expressions mingling trepidation with disbelief. It was insane, Scorpius knew it was insane, but there was no other logical explanation.

The three said nothing on the subject for the rest of the lesson, making their way to the library to work on their new charms essay before the rest of their group could distract them. Scorpius’ thoughts kept swirling around Albus, his best friend, the boy he loved, who was clearly in some sort of strange danger he couldn’t possibly begin understand yet. He could feel the panic starting to build in his blood, the desperate need to run to Albus, to make sure he was alright, to make him alright if he wasn’t.

And then Albus was there, looking absolutely fine, black hair flicking out of his green eyes and he knocked his head back, laughing outrageously at something Rose had said, like that was completely normal, like that was something he did, like Rose was even remotely funny. The panic fled Scorpius like a lightning strike, as if it had never been there in the first place, quickly, forcefully replaced by searing hot jealousy that Scorpius was poor at best at disguising.

“Clearly I was mistaken,” he muttered, voice dripping with bitterness, quiet enough that only Anastasia and Thorne could possibly hear him. Anastasia’s brown eyes rested on his face, pity showing there as clear as day. Scorpius flinched away from her, fearing what she might say if she was the hurt that must be blazing in his eyes. Albus didn’t even like Rose, and there he was laughing with her as if she were the best thing ever, as if she could possibly be nearly as important as him, and here was Scorpius, worried about him. As always.

The trio look a seat as far from the cousins as they could, holed up around a small oak desk at the far side of the massive room.

“So, do you think it’s Albus, then?” Anastasia was, despite her softness, quick, and straight to the point.  
“Why would it be Albus?” Scorpius knew the chance was there, and a high one at that, but he didn’t want to believe it, even as the doubt settled in his head.  
“Well, his mother opened the Chamber the last time,” was her simple answer, as if that was the main reason.  
“That was under the possession of Voldemort though,” Scorpius reminded her gently, trying not to think about what Albus had looked like the night before. Because possessed would be far too close a word for it.  
“Which was Scorpius’ grandfather’s fault,” Thorne felt the need to point out, like they both weren’t painfully aware of that.  
“Scorpius did say he looked possessed.” Anastasia was discussing this as if they were talking about the weather, as if they weren’t talking about the sanity of their friend and possibly the future of the wizarding world. Scorpius felt a little nauseous, and thought that perhaps Anastasia was more like Lucinda and Carrow than he’d thought.  
“I said ‘taken over’ actually,” Scorpius blurted out, unable to help himself. He was starting to sound like Lucinda.  
“You think Albus is possessed by _Voldemort_?” Thorne asked, incredulous, looking at his girlfriend like she’d grown an extra head. Scorpius forced the same expression onto his face. He hoped the couple wouldn’t notice that he clearly didn’t mean it.  
Anastasia shrugged like this was a perfectly acceptable, logical conclusion. “Harry Potter had a piece of Voldemort’s soul, right? Harry is Albus’ dad, so their heir part could come from that. And Albus is a Slytherin.”  
Scorpius couldn’t help but stare at her, because yes, it all made sense, but was also completely and utterly impossible, this was Albus they were talking about not the twisted sort-of son of Voldemort’s soul that Harry killed years before Albus was even born. Hopefully.

* * *

 Lucinda burst through the boy’s dormitory, hair wild, eyes wide, staring at Albus’ sleeping form like he should somehow be awake at three o’clock in the morning, or whatever unholy hour she had decided to wake them all up at this time. It hardly seemed that Scorpius had been up anyway, worrying himself half to death about the boy in the bed beside him.

Then he remembered the last time she’d woken them up at in the middle of the night, months before now, and dread settled in Scorpius’ stomach, working its way up to his chest, forcing the air out of his lungs. _No no no_ -

Except this time Lucinda kicked the door shut and sat herself down on Carrow’s bed, her eyes not leaving the green eye’d boy’s face. Carrow shot up, suddenly awake, and reached over to shake Thorne out of his sleep, then turned to Colt’s empty bed as if he were to wake him too, only to remember their other friend was still petrified in a hospital bed. Scorpius wanted to cry.

“Luce, what is it?” Carrow asked quietly, peering at his best friend.  
She was still staring at Albus, who was still sleeping, when she said it, “Lily Potter’s been petrified.”  
This time, Scorpius couldn’t keep it to himself; “No. No no no, not again.”  
“Does he know?” was Carrow’s next question.  
“I don’t imagine so, it was only a couple of hours ago.”  
“Then it can’t have been…” Thorne trailed off, his half thought still in the air. Lucinda and Carrow both gave him a pointed look, but Thorne’s eyes flicked up to meet Scorpius’.  
“He’s been asleep all night,” Scorpius confirmed.  
“What are you two talked about? Who can’t have done what?” Lucinda snapped in a hushed voice, glaring at them both. “Explain.”  
“We thought maybe it was Albus,” Thorne admitted, looking ashamed as he examined his hands before him.  
“The Heir,” Scorpius quickly expanded.  
“Why?” Carrow asked, eyebrows raising.  
“It doesn’t matter.” Scorpius couldn’t keep the sorrow from his voice as he stared at the black haired boy, still sleeping peacefully.  
“We need him back,” Lucinda admitted. “I miss him.”  
“Me too,” Thorne and Carrow said in unison.  
Scorpius only nodded.

Albus woke up screaming.

He was half out is bed before Scorpius was by his side, not shouting at him, not telling him to calm down, but holding him, because really Albus was in pain and Scorpius had no self-control. Albus calmed within seconds and stayed perfectly still within the blond boy’s arms.  
“What are you doing?” his voice was strained, tired, and held something else Scorpius didn’t recognise.  
“I’m so sorry,” admitted into his shoulder, allowing himself to curl tighter around his favourite person, drinking in the scent of grass and ink he’d missed so much. Finally, Albus seemed to thaw, and he clung back, burying his face in Scorpius’ neck.  
“Me too,” he muttered.


	6. Chapter 5: The Marauder's Map - Part One

* * *

 Albus fell asleep with Scorpius curled around him, clinging together on his small bed, so close he could feel every breath of the other boy’s on his neck, over his face, as unwilling to let go of Scorpius as he was of him, the words; _he’s in love with you_ , swirling around in his mind, unable to tell if they was his own thoughts, or just the voice in his head.

He awoke the next morning in much the same position, still pressed up against Scorpius’ side, the other boy’s arm still thrown over him, holding him close. For a moment, Albus was content, happy to bask in his best friend’s affection and ignore the rest of the world. The voice in his head was silent, he hadn’t had a single dream, of blond men, dark wine and swords or otherwise, he had his friends back and all was as well in Albus’ world as it ever got. He shifted, trying to get a better look of the rectangular room without waking Scorpius, and smiled when he saw Thorne and Carrow’s beds empty and unmade as ever before his eyes shifted to Colt’s perfectly crisp bedsheets, empty for more than just a few hours, and his world came crashing back around him. Colt, Lily, his friend and his sister, both petrified and lying only half alive in hospital beds Albus hadn’t seen yet. He couldn’t stop the guilt twisting in his stomach, the burning behind his eyes as he fought off tears, the overwhelming sense of having let them down, to have thought he was happy when they might never be again.

Scorpius moved slowly, his eyes blinking open and settling on Albus. A pang of something he didn’t want to identify shot along his nerves, making his hands itch with the need to touch him, to brush back his hair, to stroke his cheek. His clenched his hands into fists to stop them rolling, the longing in him almost overwhelming the sadness sitting in his chest.

* * *

 “Albus.” Scorpius was blinking slowly still, a warm, sleepy smile growing on his thin lips. Suddenly his smile fell, his eyebrows drawing together, his eyes changing from happy and soft to sharp concern in a split second. Albus had apparently failed at holding back his tears; he could feel the wet, salty tracks streaking his down face. He said nothing as Scorpius pulled him to him, wrapping his arms around him, and letting Albus cry silently into his neck, the familiar wood and linen smell of Scorpius enveloping him, calming him as much as the arms deceptively strong around him.  
“We’ll go and see them this morning,” was all Scorpius said.

* * *

 “I think you should go and see Madam Pomfrey,” Scorpius said from his side as the two boys made their way to the Hospital Wing, sounding apologetic. “About the voice in your head, and your dreams.”  
“What are you talking about?” Albus sounded more defensive than he meant to, giving away his guilt too easily. He’d been so careful about not responding to the voice in front of anyone, answering only inside his head or ignoring it completely. How could he know?  
_Because he notices everything about you, boy_.  
Albus tried not to wince at the sneer. He’s hoped, a foolish hope perhaps, that with his lack of dreams the night before that the voice would have finally gone, banished completely from his mind. Of course that was far too much to ask for.  
“I saw you a few nights ago arguing with yourself in the middle of the night. And not how you would normally argue with yourself,” Scorpius explained quickly. “Like you were sometimes someone else completely.”  
Albus’ lips thinned, shutting his eyes against the knowledge he’d been seen. He couldn’t remember arguing with the voice, certainly not in the middle of the night, but being told it had happened wasn’t surprising. Over the past few months, when he awoke screaming from a dream that wasn’t a nightmare, he’d found his feet wet and cold and his cloak not where he’d left it, like he’d been outside and not even known.  
It was only a half lie when he said; “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
Scorpius wasn’t backing down though. “And the dreams? You can’t deny those.”  
“I didn’t have them last night, did I? They’re going away.” It felt even more of a lie than his last one.  
“One night, Albus, doesn’t mean anything.”  
“Leave it, Scorp,” he snapped, gritting his teeth against the urge to shout at his newly re-instated best friend.  
He was still shocked when he did.

* * *

 The hospital wing was all stark white and pale blue, from the floor to the bed to the curtains. The widows were fastened shut, locking out the brisk, bitter breeze that whirled around the grounds. Albus pulled off his thick woollen gloves, shrugged off his cloak and tried to pretend he didn’t feel nauseous at the sight of so many bodies unmoving in the beds, the room fuller than he’d ever seen it, even the time James and Fred had managed to feed the whole Slytherin Quidditch team extra strength Puking Pastilles, forcing all of them to spend hours in the Hospital Wing, vomiting uncontrollably, instead of playing the final game against Gryffindor of the season. Albus felt a shiver run through him at the memory, and took the hard seat beside his sister’s bed.

“Hello Lily,” he said, so quietly he wasn’t sure even she would hear, never mind the other patients. “Rose said I should come and visit you.” What else could he say? What was the point in talking to an unresponsive person he hadn’t even liked all that much when she was well? “Lucinda said the same actually, which was odd. Luce hates Rose.”

He tried to think of something else to say, really he did, but his mind stayed completely blank, and when someone squeezed his shoulder half an hour later, he’d said nothing more.

“Are you alright?” Scorpius’ voice was gentle, soothing, smoothing over the guilt curling in his gut, and Merlin how he’d missed him. He nodded, his eyes not leaving Lily’s face as his best friend came and sat down beside him, his hand moving to play with the metal cot before him.  
“I suppose.”  
Scorpius said nothing for a moment, watching Lily closely. He opened his mouth as if to speak but seemed to think better off it.  
Albus tried not to snap but his nerves were too on edge to do anything else. “What?”  
“I used to like her, you know?” Scorpius said finally. His voice was still gentle, but there was something else there now too, raw and honest.  
Albus couldn’t mask his confusion. “Like her?” Why would Scorpius like Lily, he didn’t even know her.  
_Or maybe he did_ , was the voice in his head’s snide comment, words poking at the uncomfortable feeling growing in his chest. He ignored it.  
“A couple of years ago, I fancied her,” Scorpius explained softly, his grey eyes avoiding Albus’ completely.  
“You _what_? You fancied my sister?” He hadn’t meant to shout, not really, but he just couldn’t help himself. Anger and something else he really didn’t want to identify raced through his veins. How could he fancy Lily? Lily, his little sister, his sister they didn’t even like. How could he like Lily when Albus was right in front of him? He forced that last thought away, focused on the anger. Anger was good, far better than jealousy anyway.  
“I was fourteen, I knew I shouldn’t, I knew Dad would hate it. It passed.” Scorpius put his hand on his arm, his touch cooling Albus’ anger immediately, like some sort of strange balm to all of Albus’ hurts. He sat back in his seat, having not even noticed he’d stood up. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Scorpius, staring at Lily.  
“It was nothing, Al.” That something was in his voice again, making Albus want to reach out and take his hand and never let go.

They stayed like that for a while, silent, watching his half dead sister like she could give them all the answers they needed.

“Scorp, what did we do?” Albus found himself asking quietly as they finally made their way out, Madam Pomfrey’s suggestion of sleep following them into the hallway.  
“What do you mean?” Scorpius knew what he meant, that much was clear by the resignation in his voice. He picked at his fingernails, a nervous habit Albus had noticed years ago when they first became friends.  
“The night before our fight,” he explained anyway, pushing at something he knew he really shouldn’t.  
“Nothing Al.” His tone did not invite conversation. For Scorpius to be so closed off with him after so long apart, it must had been bad, so Albus left it for now, knowing he would tell him in the end.

* * *

 Albus watched as the blond man swirled the dark red wine in his glass and looked up at the dark haired woman through his eyelashes. Albus felt a stab of pain shoot through his chest, as if someone had sent an arrow straight through his heart. The blood that oozed out of the wound was green, and when Albus looked back at the pair on the other side of the room, his vision was tinged green.

 _How can he do this to me?! The voice in his head screamed. He’s supposed to love me!_ Albus didn’t flinch.

He didn’t know the man, or the woman, but they had a vague sense of familiarity to them. The voice in his head was as familiar as his own now, the same voice he heard in his head every day.

_And her, she’s just a slut, a whore! She’s just using him! He must know that, surely he must know that? He isn’t an idiot, but then neither is she. Neither am I. I know what she’s doing, doesn’t he understand? It was supposed to be just us, just the two of us, together. This was our project, our work, and she thinks she can just worm her way in, does she?_

“Are you alright, dear?” A voice said from beside Albus. He turned to face the round, short woman, still furious with the blond man and unaware of whom he was.  
“I’m not your _dear_ , and I’m perfectly alright,” he snapped at her, turning back to the pair as pain and worry settled in the woman’s face. Except it wasn’t really him that snapped at her, he could hear it now, it was again the low, rough voice that lived in his head. She too looked familiar, but he had no clue as to who she was.  
“It is wonderful here, don’t you think? You and Godric have made it quite lovely. How brilliant it would be to live here, as you two do.”

Albus ignored the plump, ginger woman’s insistent chatter, and watched with the green eyes of envy as the blond man tucked a lock of dark hair behind the other woman’s ear, and she laughed at something he had said, her voice like soft, high bells. Her hand: pale, elegant, delicate, moved to rest on his knee. He took it and brought it up to his lips, kissing it gentle as she blushed, his eyes not moving from hers. Albus, still unknowing of who they were, could kill them both, and this annoying woman beside him.

 _She’s manipulating him, and if I don’t do anything about it she’ll ruin everything! She’ll be the one he tells his secrets to, not me, she’ll be the one he takes long walks with around the garden, not me, she’ll be the one in his_ bed _, not me! I can’t let that happen. I must distract him, but how?_

Albus spotted a sword beside the blond man, its golden handle encrusted with rubies. He stood and walked over to the man, forcing a smile. Startled, the pair looked up at him. A scowl grew on the woman’s face, but a surprised laugh burst from the man.

“Ah, friend, come to see my new sword, have you?” He lifted the sword from its place and motioned for Albus to sit down beside him. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Goblin made, obviously.” The man looked at Albus, his bright blue eyes shining, and without the woman being able to see him, winked.

Black started to invade Albus’ vision, his breathing quickening with his rising panic before the room started to spin and everything went black.

The next thing he knew, he was kissing the blond man desperately in a bedroom he didn’t recognise. Strong hands twisted in his hair, longer than he remembered, pulling him closer and rocking their hips together. A spike of arousal shot up through Albus and he let out a low, needy moan that really didn’t sound like him at all. The man pushed him down, but as his back hit the soft bed, the man shifted, and he found himself staring at Scorpius, his grey eyes dark with arousal, visibly panting.

“Salazar,” he breathed, the word filled with longing, and leapt atop him.

* * *

 Albus had no idea if Carrow was trying to look suspect, but he most certainly did as his eyes constantly roamed over the room watching everybody’s moves to make sure no one was going to over hear their conversation. If people weren’t suspicious before, which Albus was fairly sure they weren’t, they would be now. Albus smothered a smirk.

Something in Albus seemed to have changed since he’s started speaking to his friends again, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved. No longer did the brown eyed boy give Albus butterflies whenever he smiled his thin lipped smile at him, and he didn’t have to force himself not to leer at Calin whenever he was around. He supposed he was just glad to have them back, no matter how.

“Carrow would you _stop_?” Lucinda finally barked at him, irritation clear in the line between her eyebrows and the sharpness in her voice.  
“Stop what?” Carrow hissed back at her, not sparing her a glance.  
“Glaring at everyone as if you are about to murder them, perhaps?” Thorne sounded bored, and Albus tried not to snort. Scorpius, beside him, did not succeed in the effort, and let out a loud noise he attempted to pass off as a cough, but when he met Albus’ eyes, they were smiling  
“You do look like might attack the next person who looks at you,” Albus told him, looking away from Scorpius before that warm feeling in the pit of his stomach became anything recognisable.  
“I am _trying_ to make sure no one overhears us.” Carrow bristled, glaring at his friends one by one.  
“By drawing more attention to us?” Scorpius sounded sceptical, raising a pale eyebrow in a perfect arch.  
_Because he is perfect_.  
Albus ignored the voice in his head entirely, longing for the day it would finally go away, and kept his mind on the real conversation at hand.  
“I am not-”  
“Enough, Carrow, just pay attention.” Lucinda’s voice gave no room for argument and when her best friend finally huffed and sighed and forced his attention back to the group, she leaned forward, and began in a hushed tone; “So, who are our options?”  
Albus felt sick to his stomach but he forced himself to stay seated, to engage in the conversation, to not run and hide even though he knew it wasn’t him. Even if he did suspect it was Salazar Slytherin’s voice talking to him.  
“Well, it’s not any of us, and we are the obvious options. Avery?” Thorne seemed to be approaching the idea like it was some sort of game, like if he played his pieces right, he would win some sort of prize.  
Lucinda shook her head, taking out a piece of parchment and a quill. Albus was surprised to see on the parchment a list of names, some scored out, some underlined. A list of their suspects, including, Albus saw, himself and Rose. He was about to say something, to object loudly when Lucinda dipped her quill in the ink pot sitting on the table and scored out his name, then Avery’s.  
“It’s not Avery, I talked to her last night.” Scorpius seemed to hum in agreement, and the other three nodded.  
“Not Rose either, she wouldn’t,” Albus said. He and Rose had become friends again after his estrangement from his Slytherin family, even close, and he knew without a doubt that she would never ever do something that could hurt them, any of them.  
“Okay.” Rose’s name was scored off too, sharp and precise, a thin line to establish her innocence.  
“Then who do we have left?” Carrow asked, peering over Lucinda’s shoulder. The list, even with the numerous scored out names, was still long, longer than Albus expected. Had they been writing their list of possible guilt without him?  
Scorpius sighed beside him, leaning back in his chair and holding his head in his hands. “Everyone.”  
“How can we narrow it down?” Lucinda again, logic pervading her thoughts. A step by step process to finding out who the new Heir was. It was ridiculous, and the only chance they had.  
“Albus, you could ask your father. I know you don’t-”  
“No.” It was that simple. No, he would not, under any circumstances ask his father about anything. Not even this. Four pairs of eyes looked at him carefully, as if to try and figure out why. “No,” was all he said again.  
Scorpius nodded, and they returned to their list.

* * *

 Even in the snow and the wind that joined to make a blizzard, Albus felt free when he played Quidditch. He swooped and soared above the other players, above the stands, at times even above the bitter wet clouds, and raced so fast his face went entirely numb when he caught sight of the golden snitch glinting in the air before him, chasing and being chased in turn by the Hufflepuff chaser. Albus snatched the snitch first, and Slytherin won again.

He’d expected like normal, to come down to the cheers of Carrow and Thorne and Scorpius, but instead the two brown haired boys were long gone and there was a mischievous glint in Scorpius’ eyes.

“Go get changed,” he ordered, the corner of his smug mouth twitching with the effort of forcing down a smile. “They found something.”

Albus, unusually subservient, did as he was told, showered and changed quickly, and tried to no avail to get Calin and Lucinda to part for long enough that he could drag her away, but both where far too interested in devouring each other mouth first, apparently, and Albus left alone to Scorpius still waiting in the freezing winter weather, his robed pulled close, his green and silver scarf tight around his neck, smirking.

“Come on.”

The common room was full of celebrating Slytherins of all ages, Albus receiving more enthusiastic pats on the backs and “Well done, Al!”s and “Good flying, mate!”s to possibly count, Scorpius leading his through with his charming smile and few well-placed nudges and elbows up into their dorm, where he slammed the door behind them. Scorpius’ normally serene face split into a grin like Albus had never seen before.  
“I ran into your brother earlier.” His tone was somehow casual, conversational, like his face did not look like it belonged to some kind of deranged goblin instead of his normal angelic self. “And he dropped this.”  
Appearing from behind him, Carrow moved forward and handed him a piece of blank, aged parchment, looking for all the world to Albus like bit of ordinary stationary and of absolutely no use. He raised he eyebrows at the three other boys in the room, all three grinned back.  
“What-”  
Eyes growing wide, he cut himself off sharply, watching as words began to form on the parchment.

 _Hello, Mr. Potter_ , the words read in the most perfect script Albus had ever seen, including Scorpius’.  
_What is this?_ the voice in his head screamed, forcing him to flinch.  
He had no idea, he had no idea what this was, this magic. It felt different from the voice in his head, and yet the same, like the spell causing both might be similar. It knew who he was, and he’d barely even touched it.  
“It’s the Marauders’ Map,” Thorne said quietly from behind him. “It belonged to your dad.”  
_Mr. Padfoot wonders how Mr. Higgs could possibly know that_.  
_Mr. Prongs thinks it’s unlikely a Slytherin could be so clever_.  
“Mr. Padfoot, Mr. Prongs, Mr. Moony, Mr. Wormtail; the Marauders,” Thorne said, smiling widely. “Pretty excellent magic.”  
Padfoot. The name was familiar, itching in Albus’ head, a word associated with fond memories of a man he had never met.  
“Sirius,” he murmured. “Sirius is Padfoot.”  
_Mr. Moony thinks this may be Mr. Prongs’ grandson after all_.  
“And Prongs is James,” Scorpius said in his quiet, gentle voice, his grin vanished to be replaced by a look of soft worry.  
“Oh.” Sirius and James, the men his brother was named after, the most brave, most brilliant men who had ever lived according to Albus’ father. Albus’ name was a forgiveness of men who lived long enough to do bad, James’ was a dedication to men who only survived long enough to become gods.

Carrow looked from Albus to Scorpius and back again, brow creasing in confusion. Carrow, Thorne and Lucinda were brilliant and clever and loud, but they didn’t understand. They were variations of the same person, understood each other without speaking, with expressions and twitches of fingers and mild differences in a smile, but Albus and Scorpius were different and separate, and they loved them, but they weren’t the same. Scorpius was closer to Albus, and he knew.

Carrow took the parchment back and tapped it with his wand. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” he said, and the parchment shifted. Lines spread everywhere, whirling across it, stretching out to form rectangles and circles, ovals and squares.  
“It’s a map,” Scorpius explained as it continued to shift, unfolding it, watching as it formed as closely as him. As the map settled, names started to appear beneath inky footprints, some moving, some standing still, some standing so close together that there could be no space between them. Towards the bottom where four names Albus knew instantly in a rectangular room; Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, Dimitri Carrow, Thorne Higgs.  
“It’s the castle,” Albus said, half in fear, half in delight.  
“And everyone in it.” Carrow and Thorne were grinning.


	7. Chapter 6: The Marauder's Map - Part Two

* * *

 When Scorpius and Albus went back to the Hospital Wing two days later, they stopped dead. Standing before them of one very alive, very awake Colt, dressed in his normal Slytherin robes, looking for all the world like he’d simply been asking Madam Pomfrey a question, not lying in a bed half dead for weeks. Albus’ face split into a smile so wide it hurt and threw himself at his finally well friend. Colt, though significantly smaller, caught him in his arms and squeezed him tight, grinning just as wide.

“Feeling better?” Scorpius asked from behind half shy, half scared of breaking him, before he too launched himself at their friend.  
Colt gave a half shrug, his smile still wide, and said only half-joking; “Just a bit.”  
“When did you wake up?” Albus asked as Scorpius demanded;  
“Why did no one tell us?”  
Colt’s smile fell, only slightly. “Yesterday, but Madame Pomfrey didn’t want to tell anyone until she was sure I was going to be okay.”  
When Scorpius and Albus both simply stared at him, his grin came back full force, though softer.  
“And I am.”

* * *

 Colt was back in the common room within the hour, and was instantly bombarded by people asking how he was and what had happened and when he’d gotten better. Colt, shy as ever, answered their questions politely, smiled when he needed to, and in general tried to subtly push his way to the back of the room and down the stairs to their dorm. His dorm mates, along with Lucinda, followed at his heels.

The first thing he did was collapse back onto his bed, still made from the morning he’d been petrified, untouched by the boys or the house elves that silently came in when no one was looking, cleaned the room and disappeared without a trace. He sighed, all the bravado from earlier seeping away into drowsiness, still tired after weeks of continual, unnatural sleep. But he didn’t remove him glasses, and he didn’t shut his eyes, he simply stared up at the ceiling, unseeing.

Albus sat on the edge of his bed, Scorpius beside him, his thigh pressed against his, their shoulders knocking together every time one of them moved, and Albus tried to keep his attention on his newly well friend, or perhaps still not so well, but Scorpius was warm and too close and Albus could smell him and feel him and he really was far, far too lose for Albus to concentrate on anything but not leaning into him and forcing down the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Lucinda sat close with Thorne and Carrow too, but none of them seemed to be having the same issue as Albus, huddled together on Carrow’s bed as they were, Lucinda between them and pressed against them both. Albus’ gaze was drawn away from the trio, all with soft, concerned looked on their faces by Scorpius leaning back, stretching out on Albus’ bed like he belonged there.

He shot to his feet, pacing the room, hating himself for not being more worried about his half collapsed friend because all he could think about was how good Scorpius looked on his bed, and how he could convince him to stay there.

 _You could just climb on top of him_ , the voice in his head purred. _It’s not as if he’d push you off_.  
Albus ignored the voice, but today, it was being resilient.  
_You could climb on top of his, push yourself against him, claim him of your own, right here, in front of all your little friends and he’d let you. He’d let you do anything to him._  
It wasn’t true, not really, but he still had to clench his fists to stop the urge of doing of the voice suggested.  
_He’d let you lick him, bite him, fuck him as you pleased. He’d let you_ -

“Who’s left on the list then?” Colt’s voice, alert and curious, broke through that of the one in his head, and Albus had to fight from sighing in relief, wondering just how long he’d been out of the conversation.

The voice had gotten steadily worse over the weeks he had been separated from his friends, growing more and more insistent and frequent, and Albus knew in every inch of him that he needed to end it, to go and see Madam Pomfrey and have his head fixed, but how could he when Colt was here, needing his help, when half the school could barely breathe from fear of something many wanted to blame on him.

Lucinda drew out her long scroll filled with names of their possible suspects, and Albus was surprised to see that the mass majority had now been scored out. Now, there were only two.

“Xavier Goodlow and Ottilie Grove,” Lucinda said, far too brightly for the names of two people she thought were probably murderers.  
“Goodlow’s a Gryffindor, seventh year, goes on and on about how he should have been in Slytherin, and I heard him call someone a Mudblood a couple of days ago,” Carrow explained, stuttering over the name.  
“That’s all you have to go on?” Scorpius asked, his tone utterly scathing.  
“James hates him,” Albus admitted quietly, trying not to think of his brother, who made him think of Rose, who he’d completely abandoned since he got his real friends back. “Goes on about how he’d probably be a Death Eater if Voldemort was still around.”  
“Seems good enough reason to suspect him to me,” Thorne added, raising his eyebrows at Scorpius in a silent question.  
Scorpius nodded.  
“And Grove?” Colt asked, seeming to accept Goodlow with no questions.  
“She a fourth year Ravenclaw, but her parents were Death Eaters.” It was Scorpius’ time to explain now, looking vaguely guilty, and they all knew why.

Draco Malfoy had been cleared of all crimes during the Second Wizarding War, as had his parents, despite his father being a notorious Death Eater in both wars, and Draco playing a crucial part on the side of the Voldemort in the second. Carrow and Lucinda, though both sharing surnames with infamous dark wizards, were much further relations. Antonin Dolohov was Lucinda’s mother’s second cousin, and Alecto and Amycus Carrow were Carrow’s aunt and uncle he’s never met

“If her parents were Death Eaters, how is she only in fourth year?"  
"They went on the run after Voldemort’s downfall, hid in the States, they were only found six years ago, and were taken straight to Azkaban, no trial, nothing. Probably dead now. It’s generally believed she shares their ideology,” Scorpius supplied again.  
Colt nodded, seeming to think to himself, processing this new information. They were all silent for a few minutes, thinking about how they were going to catch the two, and Albus hoping vaguely, that he didn’t have to.  
“We need to spy on them,” Colt finally decided, still nodding to himself.  
Thorne and Carrow made noises of agreement.  
“How?” Albus asked, unable to think of how they could possibly spy on two people, from two different houses, for long enough that they would find them guilty, be able to prove it, and not get caught.  
“With this, of course,” Carrow said brightly, pulling the Marauder’s Map out from under his bed, tapping it and muttering the words to open it.  
“And polyjuice potion,” Scorpius added, his nod adding even more finality to his tone.  
Lucinda and Carrow grinned, and Albus had to fight the need to run away from his obviously insane friends, because this was the worse plan he’d ever heard, including when James and him had still gotten along before Hogwarts and James had thought it was the best idea ever to fly Albus straight into a wasps nest to see if he could find some honey, and instead Albus had fell off his broom, covered in stings and with the assertion that no, wasps definitely don’t make honey.  
“Sounds like a good plan,” he said instead.

* * *

 The moonlight was pale and silver as it slanted through the windows of Hogwarts, catching the three Slytherins as they scurried along it’s hallways and up flights of stairs, the map held before them, the names Colt Browning-Foxx, Lucinda Dolohov and Albus Potter clustered together and streaming across the pages, down a hallways labelled as the Serpentine Corridor.

This really was the most awful idea, and there was no way it was going to work, yet Albus found himself still following Lucinda and Colt, close at their backs, whispering directions and pulling them into empty classrooms when a name drew close to theirs on his grandfather’s map, Colt and Lucinda discussing what they needed to get and where in hushed voices.

“Here,” he hissed under his breath as they approached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor was as huge and ugly as ever, her one eye staring unblinking at the three of them, and though Albus knew it was impossible, he still felt like she was watching them. He glanced over the map one more, knowing by memory now that the statue would swing open to reveal a short passageway to the cellar of Honeydukes.

The Slytherins were silent, the corridor so quiet their breathing sounded louder and harsher than it was. It was so quiet, Albus thought he could hear his friends heartbeats, fast and terrified as is own. There was so crack in the statue, no place where it might separate, no hinges on which it might swing forth. The map had lied to them, there was no passageway here, they’d have to find another way, some other way to carry out this terrible plan, because even though it was awful, Albus knew his friends would never let it go.

Lucinda brought her wand forward, held it hovering before the statue, surprisingly steady, the tip pointed directly towards old Gunhilda’s empty eye.  
“Dissendium.” Her voice was as stable as her wand, and with a groan so loud Albus thought it might wake the whole castle, the front half of the statue swung forward just enough the a person could squeeze through.

The three looked each other in the eye, still silent, before Colt slipped through, Lucinda behind him. Albus hesitated.

 _This is a waste of time_ , the voice in his head hissed. That was enough incentive for him, and he too squeezed through the space.

Lucinda yelped as he stood behind her, falling backwards, smashing her head of the ground, and sliding quickly down an invisible path.

“Luce!” Albus shouted after her, thrusting out his hand to grab her as she narrowly missed his fingertips. “Luce!”  
There was no answer, but he could hear voices at further down, hushed but familiar.  
“Luce!” Albus shouted again. “Colt!”  
“It’s okay Al,” Lucinda shouted back, her voice quavering but safe, sent a rush of relief flooding through him. “Just be careful, it’s slippery.”

Again, Albus hesitated, gripped all his courage from the soles of his feet, and stepped forward into the impenetrable darkness. Under his feet, he felt the ground tilt sharply downwards as he edged further into the tunnel slowly, taking much more care with his footing that his friends had. The tunnel had clearly been unused for years, probably since his father had went to school, cobwebs still hanging from the ceiling and the walls, dust clinging to the webs and the walls alike. Albus put his hand on the wall to stabilise himself and flinched away immediately, his fingers covered in grime. James clearly hadn’t used this passageway when he’d been in possession of the map.

The thought of James made him think of Lily, well again like Colt, though he hadn’t seen her since, except fleetingly in the hallways, and he’d went back to not acknowledging her. He’d caught Rose looking at him once, her eyes sad and hurt, but he’d ignored her too.

“Lumos,” he heard Colt whisper, and a flare of light lit up the end of the tunnel, barely three feet in front of him, drawing his attention back to his friends.

All in a rush, Albus hurried forward, ignoring his previously cautiousness, only to end up falling at Lucinda’s feet. Blushing furiously, Albus pushed himself straight up onto his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in his ankle and trying to ignore Lucinda’s softly amused smirk.

“Alright there Al?” Colt asked, pale brown eyebrows raised.  
Albus nodded. “What do we need?”  
Colt pulled out a scrap of parchment from inside his heavy cloak, and read aloud to them; “Fluxweed, knotgrass, lacewing flies, leeches, horn of bicorn and boomslang skin.”  
Albus blinked hard and stared between his two friends; this was going to be impossible. How were they possibly going to find these things in Hogsmeade?

 _I told you this was a waste of time_ , the voice sounded more than irritated now, almost whiny. Albus, again, ignored it.

“We’ve got the knotgrass,” Lucinda said, as if in answer to his silent questions.  
“When and where exactly, did you get Knotgrass?” Albus asked aloud this time, unable to hide his scepticism.  
“The Forbidden Forest.” Lucinda made it sound like it was nothing, like one just walked through the Forbidden Forest on a regular basis finding very rare ingredients on the way. “Last night, Carrow thought he’d overheard one of your cousins say it was there, we went with Thorne last night.”  
Albus simply stared at her. Since when did his friends sneak about in the middle of the night without him even noticing?  
_We both know Lucinda is good at sneaking around_.  
Quiet, Albus snapped inside his head, unable to ignore the voice any longer. He didn’t want to think about him, didn’t want to have to acknowledge him, didn’t want to admit that he knew exactly was in his head, but every time he spoke it became more and more difficult.  
“And Scorpius and I stole some lacewings and boomslang skin from Slughorn’s potions cupboard after potions today,” Colt said before Albus simply couldn’t help himself;  
“ _Scorpius_ stole lacewings? Scorpius. My Scorpius?”  
Lucinda smirked, her lips turning up into a wicked grin. “Yes Al, your Scorpius.” She rolled her eyes, motioning for Colt to score off knotgrass and lacewings from his list.  
“And Carrow and Thorne are getting leeches from the Black Lake tonight,” Colt continued on as if nothing had happened, though Albus could see a smile around the edges of his mouth. He flushed again, the heat flooding all the way to the tips of his ears.  
“I got mum to send me some powdered horn of bicorn, it should get here tomorrow.” For all he tried, Albus couldn’t muster up any more surprise for his apparently ridiculous, adventurous friends who sneak around at various points in the day and night finding various ingredients for an illegal potion to spy on people they thought were serial killers.  
“So all we are here for is Fluxweed?” asked Albus, sounding completely bored now, though his head was still spinning from the fact that Scorpius, of all people, had stolen from a Professor.  
“It grows behind the Hog’s Head,” Colt added with a nod.  
Unable to say anything at all helpful, Albus motioned for Colt to lead the way.

* * *

 For once, after his dream, Albus didn’t wake up screaming. His blood was pounding, his breathing heavy, but he wasn’t screaming, he wasn’t even terrified, though he wasn’t sure this feeling was any better. He was still scared, though he knew full well that that wasn’t the reason his blood was rushing around his body, centring at one area in particular. He signed, closing his eyes fighting the urge to slip his hand beneath his pyjama bottoms, what with the image of Scorpius standing before him, hungry and desperate, breathing his name. Well, not his name, the name of the voice in his head, and it wasn’t really Scorpius, but it looked the same and felt the same. Albus grit his teeth, clenched his fists in the sheets and forced himself to sleep.

* * *

 Snowflakes swirled around in the frigid air, taking an age to melt as they fell onto people’s cloaks and into their faces. The sky was a mirror image of the ground, white and fluffy, as bright as if the sun had been directly shining on them. Scorpius, normally a vision in grey and white, was red faced from the cold, holding his cloak as close to him as he could, a bright green hat that matched his gloves Carrow had probably forced him to wear covered his white hair, only a few tufts poking out at his neck. He looked, overall, quite adorable, and Albus was fiercely glad the freezing temperatures had masked his face in red too, to cover the blush he could feel rising in his cheeks every time Scorpius’ pale grey eyes landed on him.

At least, Albus supposed as the six of them crowded into an empty compartment, the train was warm. He pulled off his own hat and gloves, shucked off his cloak, and placed them neatly above his trunk on the trunk rack, lest Thorne snap at him for being untidy.

“So, you’ll start brewing the potion when you get home, bring the remainder and finish it here?” Colt clarified as he squeezed into the seat between Albus and Scorpius, and silently, Albus was glad. He didn’t know if it was the dreams, or if it had started before then, but his affections for his best friend were starting to get uncomfortable. Scorpius had stopped looking at him in strange ways once they’d made up, but Albus, where he found them odd before, missed them now. He longed for Scorpius to rest his eyes on him, but whatever it was, it seemed to have passed.

“Yeah,” Lucinda answered, drawing Albus back to the conversation. “Carrow’s coming over for a bit, he’ll help.”

After that, the conversation drifted onto other things Albus wasn’t really paying attention to. Colt wandered off to be with Emilie-Jean, Thorne leaned his head against the window, Lucinda curled against his side, with Carrow’s head in her lap and within moments the trio were asleep. The rush of affection Albus felt for them then drowned out the sneer the voice in his head let out, and it stayed surprisingly silent as butterflies swarmed in his stomach when Scorpius leaned his head on his shoulder.

“Come to mine over the holidays?” he asked without really meaning to, his voice barely more than a whisper.  
“Of course,” was all Scorpius said before he too fell asleep. Albus wasn’t far behind him.


	8. Chapter 7: Godric's Hollow

* * *

 The Potter family home wasn’t much like it had been when Albus’ parents had decided to make the house Lily and James Potter had lived and died in with their baby son inhabitable again. Fresh snow dusted the roof, and from the outside, it looked exactly the same as the picturesque Muggle houses in the rest of the village, but inside, it bore little resemblance. The house was a sprawling mess of large rooms filled with bits and pieces of clever charms and magical objects and the few things Albus’ father had thought good enough to be imported from the Muggle world.

Albus didn’t stay to see the clock that was based on the one in the Burrow hands all move to home, smiling pictures of Albus, James, Lily and their parents shifting from travelling. His room was at the back of the house, exactly the same size as James and Lily’s, but decorated entirely differently from the red and gold of their rooms.

Stepping inside, Albus felt as if he’d went back to Hogwarts, to the Slytherin dungeons. The walls were green and silver, broad, vertical stripes stretching from floor to ceiling, the floor a dark black wood, and in the corner, atop his desk, where photographs. Stacks of them, piled up as high as they could go without collapsing, still muggle ones from the year Colt brought his parents camera in to show them all and the familiar moving ones.

Albus dropped his trunk at the foot of his bed and crawled atop the soft duvet, lying on his bed and getting ready to count down the days until he was back on the train to his real home. Despite his longing for it, his stomach twisted, thinking about what they were going to do when he returned. If they got caught for this, they’d be expelled, no questions asked. What would Aunt Hermione think then? His father and Uncle Ron still laughed about when she had implied death was a better option.

Alone, the thoughts swirled in his mind, about being thrown out, forced to stay home, achieve nothing with his life, work for Gran maybe until she died, whilst everyone else at school died because they’d been watching for the wrong people. Albus shut his eyes against the tears in his eyes, tried to force off the burning in his throat. He would never do anything, and everyone would die, and everyone who didn’t would run and be successful and amazing and James would play Quidditch professionally like he’d always wanted and Lily would be the best healer the world had ever seen and-

“Albus, darling, don’t you want something to eat? It was a long journey,” Albus’ dark thoughts, were interrupted by his mother throwing open his bedroom door. He wiped his eyes fiercely, hoping against all odds she wouldn’t notice the tears tracking their way down his face. Her face softened, her mouth opened to speak, and for a moment Albus wanted to confide in her. And then he remembered who he was, who she was, and shut the thought down. She didn’t care, of course she didn’t she just had to make it seem like she did.  
“No, Mum,” he snapped, flopping back down onto his stomach and flipping over, burying his head into a pillow.  
“Al-” she started to say, and he felt the rage build in him as her false caring.  
“NO MUM!” he screamed at her. Throwing one hand out behind him, he was surprised he hear the door slam.

* * *

 Rose was as bright and fierce and red as every other time he’d seen her, lying back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, talking about how worried she was for the end of year exams, and carefully avoiding the topics and his friends and her suspicions of them.

Albus liked taking to Rose, liked it when it was just the two of them and she made him feel less alone. She didn’t tease about how Slytherin his room was, didn’t talk about the fact that he hadn’t left his room for the two days he’d been back, and brought him chocolate and crisps and only smiled at her dad when he raised his eyebrows when he saw her waltz into his room.

“Teddy says the chocolate will help you feel better,” was all she’s said as she dropped herself onto his bed beside him. His dad used to say that too, back when he cared.

Albus loved Rose really, but guilt still churned his gut when he thought about the way she’d looked at him with his friends as they’d stepped off the train. Lucinda had been nodding vigorously about plans for Carrow to come and visit her over the holidays, Thorne had been silently laughing at them, and Albus had been trying to keep his eyes of Scorpius. She’d looked disgusted, and slightly worried, growing more so when she met his eye.

When she left, taking her laughter and her chocolate and her feeling of safety, Albus wrote to Scorpius. He said not very much, in a very many words, and all Scorpius sent back was; _I miss you too._

* * *

 Albus was dreaming, he’d learned the look of his dreams by now. This one was different though, cleaner, younger.

He was standing in a field, the plants growing almost to the height of his head, and he could see where the land dipped down, angling down to a huge lake. It looked so different, Albus took a while to recognise it, but standing there with the gentle breeze ruffling his hair, he knew this was Hogwarts, long before it was built.

“So,” a familiar voice began behind him, sounding ever so slightly out of breath. Albus spun around on the spot, and caught sight of Godric Gryffindor striding towards him through the field. He was grinning so wide, Albus could see all his teeth, and he felt a stirring on attraction that wasn’t truly his own.

“This is it then?” the voice in his head said, out loud. Albus tried not to cringe at the foreign voice coming out of his mouth, but then, it wasn’t truly his mouth either, it never was.  
“This is it, Sal. Isn’t it wonderful?” Godric was beside him now, his hand wrapped lightly around his wrist.

Albus felt himself smile, his heart fluttering at the proud look in Godric’s blue eyes. The part of Albus that wasn’t really Albus wanted to kiss him, but all he said was, “Yes,” instead. Godric grinned wider, and moved his hand from his wrist to his shoulder, leading him around the area, showing him where everything would go.

“The green houses should go there, don’t you think?” Albus hummed his agreement, not really listening to what the other man was saying, all of his attention taken up by the warm arm around his shoulder, the body pressed up against his side. Godric seemed not to notice, waving his free hand around, gesturing to spaces and making shapes and trying to show Albus whatever vision he had in his head. The part of Albus that truly was Albus thought him rather self-involved, though the other part thought it endearing, and flushed every time Godric tugged him closer.

Eventually, Godric looked at him and grinned, a different smile from his earlier ones. “You’re not listening to me, are you?” he asked, not sounding in the slightest bit annoyed. Albus shook his head and Godric laughed a full, deep laugh, pulling Albus so they were chest to chest and nuzzling his neck. “I’ll get you some drawing Sal, then you’ll see,” he murmured, before bringing his lips to Albus’ and kissing him deeply.

* * *

_HOW ARE YOU!_

Albus woke with a start, his head spinning with images of Godric Gryffindor and the Black Lake and fields and the voice in his head lounder, angrier than he’d even heard it. Automatically, he clamped his hands over his ears, but the screaming didn’t stop.

_HOW DARE YOU LOOK INTO MY PRIVATE THINGS! YOU STUPID BOY, ARROGANT, FOOLISH BOY! DO YOU NOT KNOW WHEN THINGS DON’T BELONG TO YOU?_

There was other screaming, outside of his head. Albus rushed to put his glasses on, knocking a glass over and smashing it in the process, the glaring green light of his clock reading midnight. Still, the voice screamed.

_I TRUSTED YOU, BOY! I TRUSTED YOU TO LOOK AFTER MY MEMORIES AND YOU HAVE ABUSED THEM! FOOL, FOOL, YOU SHALL REGRET IT!_

Albus curled in on himself, desperately pressing his hands to his ears, pushing his head to his knees in an effort to stop the shaking, to stop the screaming, both in his head and out. He shut his eyes, the room was spinning, his things were flying everywhere, his wand twitched, sparks flying.

His bedroom door flew open, his father, standing in just his pyjama bottoms looking ruffled and sleepy, with his wand out and eyes wide, alarm written all over his face. He rushed in, his mother just behind him, both rushing towards him, hands out.

“What is it? Albus, what’s wrong?” his mother cried, her long, pale hands on his face, his arms, pulling his hands away from his ears.

_YOU ARE SCUM BOY, ITS NO WONDER THEY HATE YOU! TO BE TRAPPED IN SUCH A BLIND BODY IS A DISGRACE TO MY NAME-_

His vision blurred and flashed, white, angry spots taking up his sight.

And then everything went black.

* * *

 They made him go to see a Healer.

She had huge brown eyes, and a face that looked permanently angry, even though when she spoke she seemed rather kind. She asked more questions that Albus could answer, scanned his head with a spell he’d never heard of and then wrote a small note saying he’d had what the muggles called a ‘nervous breakdown’, and suggested that he do no schoolwork over the holidays, smiling indulgently when James complained loudly about it.

His parents fluttered worriedly around him, apparating him home and forcing his to sit in the lounge with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and more mince pies than he could possibly eat. They suggested delaying Scorpius’ visit too, but the cold, furious look in his eyes clearly told them what a poor idea that was.

The voice in his head still hadn’t fully quietened, still mumbling and groaning about how worthless he was, and Albus mainly wanted to crawl up into a ball and die.

* * *

 Scorpius arrived hours after he returned from St. Mungo’s, dressed overly smartly in a dark green shirt and black trousers, holding a small case that declared he was staying for a few days. He smiled at the Potters shyly, slowly making his way over the Albus who hadn’t yet noticed him, curled up in on himself as he was.

When he finally did, it was only because Scorpius had sat himself down beside him, perched on the edge of the sofa, yet everything else fell away and all Albus wanted to do was hold him. And so, he did, throwing his arms around the other Slytherin and burying his face in his neck. Scorpius looked torn and after glancing around to make sure no one was watching, wrapped himself around Albus, long fingered hand fisting in his dark hair.

“You promised-” he began, his voice soft but insistent and so worried Albus felt his heart break a little.  
“I know but-”  
“Don’t do this to me again, Al,” Scorpius pleaded.  
They sat like that for a few moments, caring about nothing but the comfort the other brought until Ginny made a polite coughing noise and offered them tea. They sprang apart, choosing opposite ends of the sofa, and both stuttered, “Yes.”

Ginny smiled softly to herself, and left the pair in piece.

* * *

 Albus liked having Scorpius in his house more than he really cared to admit, and he didn’t think his heart was going to survive the visit. Scorpius smiled, and lay on his bed and read his books and put up with Lily and James and Rose and Hugo and Albus wanted him with him always. He slept on a conjured up bed on the floor, officially, but somehow made into Albus’ every night, curling himself around him and falling asleep with their hands linked, Scorpius’ pale haired head against Albus’.

On the fourth day of his visit, Scorpius received an owl from his father, asking him when, exactly he planned to return home. Albus had read the letter over his shoulder, and twisted away at the thought. The idea of Scorpius leaving filled him with dread, leaving his stomach churning and his palms sweaty, on the verge on light headedness. He heard Scorpius scribble something back and his owl leave with a fluttering of wings through the window before he felt a cool, comforting hand in his, holding him like Scorpius never wanted to leave either.

“Your dad says the village is nice this time of year,” he whispered, breaking the heavy silence, only just.  
“Yeah.” Albus breathed in deeply, the fresh air from outside sharp in his nose, the faint smell of snow and whatever cologne Scorpius was wearing settling comfortably in his senses. He turned. Scorpius was right behind him, too close to be completely innocent, his eyes huge and looking at Albus like he was the most wondrous thing on earth. Albus watched, fascinated, as his lips parted slightly, his pink tongue poking out the lick them, leaving them shiny and bright and perfectly kissable. Albus swallowed and watch Scorpius’ grey eyes track the movement of his throat. He was going to kiss him, finally, and then he would know for sure, after all this time wanting to, wondering how his mouth would taste. Scorpius swayed forward, his hand going to grip Albus’ shoulder, his eyes slowly sliding shut.

Neither boy heard the bedroom door swing open, Ginny Potter standing in the entrance.  
“Boys-”  
They sprang apart, Albus turning to look out the window, one hand tugging at his hair, Scorpius staring at Ginny, the tops of his ears turning red along with his cheeks. Her mouth shifted instantly into a knowing smirk, brown eyes glittering with mischief.  
“I was going to ask if you wanted lunch, but you’re clearly busy.” Her amusement was obvious in her voice, though she appeared to be trying to school her face into blankness.  
“We’re just going into the village Mum,” Albus answered sharply, turning back to the room and completely avoiding Scorpius’ whole face, colour high on his face. “We’ll get something there.”  
“Y-yeah,” agreed Scorpius, his usually smooth voice stuttering over the simple word. Ginny’s mouth twitched, clearly fighting another smirk.  
“Of course.”

* * *

 The snow was thick now in Godric’s Hollow, feet sinking several inches in before hitting the ground. Albus wished faintly that he’d worn taller boots, eyeing Scorpius’ black dragon hide boots that came all the way up to his knee, and trying to avoid looking at him as he sucked on his fingers, removing the remains of syrup from the pancakes they’ eaten. Even still, his eyes drew back, locked on the slick slide of fingers in and out of his faintly pink lips, leeched of their normal colour by the cold.

It was obscene really, to be licking himself like that, never mind outside sitting in the freezing air, his long, lean legs stretched out in front of him, his jeans practically painted on. Albus shifted uncomfortably, feeling blood rushing to his face, his eyes planted firmly on the empty plate in front of him.

“Al.” Scorpius was leaning back in his chair, having quite finished cleaning himself, pale eyes gazing at Albus, almost like he wanted to eat him, if it weren’t for the small, sweet smile on his mouth. Albus’ blush deepened, pushing his hand through his hair in an effort to hide his face.  
“Yeah, Scorp?” Finally, he met the other boy’s eyes fully, green meeting grey. His stomach fluttered, suddenly full of butterflies. Scorpius’ hunger seemed to grow and then dissipate just as quickly, his smile growing, still as affectionate. He stood in one fluid movement, holding one a glove clad hand out to him.  
“Come on, you promised you’d show me the graveyard.” Albus stared at him for a moment, lost in how pretty he looked with his knitted hat on, white hair poking out underneath, all pale, straight lines and planes. Scorpius laughed, low and breathy, and Albus snapped to attention, reaching out to grab the hand still being offered and let Scorpius hall him up. He expected the other boy to let go of him instantly, instead he twined their fingers together and pulled him back towards the house.

Albus was silent on the way to the cemetery, letting himself be wrapped up in the feeling of being joined to Scorpius, his stomach in his throat. Scorpius was silent too, looking at the picturesque little village as they went, biting his lip and occasionally glancing at Albus, smiling quickly, nervously, and looking away again.

The strangely pleasant nervous excitement vanished as they stopped before the three gravestones Albus knew so well, finally pulling his hand from Scorpius’. James Fleamont Potter, Lily Jane Potter nee Evans, Sirius Orion Black. Sirius of course, wasn’t truly there, his body never found after falling through the veil, but his dad had wanted him there, saying it was where he would have wanted him to be, beside James the first. For a while, they stood their silent, the wind brushing against them, silent but ever present.

Stepping away from the stones, Albus slid his hand back into Scorpius’ as he turned to face him. Everything, the guilt that lived with him all the time, fell away as he watched Scorpius’ eyes flick from his own to his lips. He pulled him forward, their chests almost touching, free hand going to clutch at the side of his coat, and kissed him.

Albus’ heart lodged in his throat, tentatively pressing his lips against Scorpius’. They were warm and soft and pressing just as lightly back. Scorpius shifted, his left hand going to the back of Albus’ neck, pulling him forward, changing the angle to deepen the kiss.

Time passed, minutes or hours, Albus didn’t really care, lost in the slick heaven of kissing Scorpius, until finally the burning in his lungs signalled he must just need to pull away if ever he was going to kiss Scorpius again. He pulled away, not far, and pressed their foreheads together, panting lightly against Scorpius’ kiss darkened lips.

“Hey,” Scorpius whispered, smiling softly.  
“Hey you.” And then they were kissing again messily through their smiles.

* * *

 “Do you really have to leave?”

They were curled up on Albus’ bed, arms wrapped around each other, nose to nose, Albus running his hand through Scorpius’ hair. He knew he was whining, and at something ridiculous at that, but the idea of Scorpius leaving him here alone again made him want to vomit. He expected Scorpius to laugh, instead a small line appeared between his brows, his mouth turning downwards.

“It’s Christmas Eve Al. We’ll be together again soon.”  
Albus sighed and shifted forward, pressing a small kiss to Scorpius’ unhappy lips.“I know,” he whispered, moving even closer into Scorpius and burying his face in the other boy’s neck. Scorpius pulled him impossibly closer, nuzzling his neck, kissing it lightly.

A screech from the window had them drawing apart, Albus throwing himself off the bed and opening the window to let in a small back owl, a letter tied tightly to its leg. He reached out and petted the owl on its head, feeding it a small snack and retrieving the letter. The owl squawked loudly and fluttered back out of the window, soon a small black dot in the distance.

_Mr. Albus Severus Potter (and Mr. Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, if he’s still there)_  
_Albus Potter’s Bedroom_  
_Potter Household_  
_Godric’s Hollow_

was scrawled on the front in the familiar writing belonging to Carrow.

Flopping back onto the bed, Albus ripped open the letter and read it aloud to his best friend – boyfriend? – Albus didn’t know

“Hey Al and Scorp, it’s Carrow.

"I’m still at Luce’s but I’m leaving today, Mum keeps moaning that I need to be back for Christmas. She’s supposed to be apparting over for me later, but I don’t really want to leave Luce, her mum works pretty much all the time. Lucinda never mentioned she was Head Healer until I got here, she spends all her time here alone. I wish I was alone, my brothers never piss off. Lucky only children, ay Scorp?

"Either way, Colt was here but he left a couple of days ago. The pair of them basically spent to whole time working the potion, it was like I wasn’t even here for most of it,though I guess its almost finished so it was worth it. It smells so bad, I don’t know how we’ve managed to sit in Lucinda’s basement this whole time, I feel constantly sick. Also, Colt gets so tetchy when you interrupt his work, I thought he was going to hex me I don’t know how many times.

"How are you guys doing anyway? Scorpius is still there right? Is he actually leaving at all?

"Right, I’ve got to go, Mum’s here apparently. See you soon.”

For a few moments, Scorpius was silent, staring up at the ceiling, his pale eyebrows pulled tightly together. Albus watched silently, wondering if Scorpius was thinking the same thing, if they were really going to do this, risk everything of a few guesses. He was so beautiful, all the time, he had no idea how he ever thought Carrow more attractive, compared to this vision before him.

He was so engrossed looking at him, his sharp collarbones, the lean, strong arms still visible through his thin jumper, he didn't notice that Scorpius was watching him now too. "This whole thing is mad," he whispered, so quietly Albus had to strain to hear him, as close as they were.  
"I know." Albus smiled at him, a strange almost sad smile. "But we have to do this, its our only shot." Scorpius returned his odd expression, and missed him lazily.

* * *

 

Albus secretly liked the Burrow, but he'd never admit it. It was huge and sprawling and noisy and hadn't changed in his whole life, unlike him and everyone else in it. His family, all of the red haired Weasleys and his various dark haired non-blood aunts, and Teddy of course, plastered to Victoire's side like it had been since they were younger than Albus was now, and that was many moons ago now, Teddy liked to tell him with a wink and a mischievous laugh that James liked to imitate as much as he could. In fact he was doing it right now, and if Albus didn't know better he'd say that Aunt Fleur's sister Isabelle was blushing furiously.

Keeping his face calm and flat and probably sort of angry looking, if what Lucy's squib boyfriend was always telling him was anything to go by, he sat at the far end of the huge table, food piled sky high and still coming juging by Gran and Molly's fumbling around the oven. His uncles George and Charlie both plonked themselves beside him, stuffing their face with bits of turkey and stuffing and roast potatoes and everything else they could find.

"So Al," his Uncle George said around his mouthful. "How's school going?"  
Albus desperately tied not to glare at the duo, acting like they care, like they always did. The rage that built inside him wasn't as all confusing as the voice in his heads, but it still threatened to boil over. "Fine."  
"And how's the Malfoy kid?"  
"His name's Scorpius!" Uncle Bill called over clearly listening in.  
"Yeah," Uncle Ron confirmed coming over to sit with them. Albus fought the eye roll trying to escape. As if any of them actually knew, or gave a shit. "How's Scorpius?"  
"He's fine too," he ground out, poking at the food that had appeared on his plate.  
"Just left yesterday," his mum added, shouting over a bowl of carrots and parsnips, grinning and waggling her eyebrows like some kind of idiot. Albus had been wrong earlier; he hated it here

 

 


	9. Chapter 8: The Gryffindor and the Ravenclaw

* * *

The polyjuice potion looked like softly boiling mud, smelled decidedly fishy and was apparently going to be kept in their dorm room. Scorpius was looking at Lucinda pleadingly, understandably against the idea, as she stood behind it, hands on hips, her pale eyebrows arched. “Well, where else are we going to keep it?” she demanded, looking rather harassed, her normally sleek white hair in a messy bun at the top of her head, turning black at the ends with exhaustion. Albus wondered how she had even gotten here from her house without anybody noticing, but guessed it was best not to ask her.

They hadn’t even been back a full day, and already the plan seemed to be getting more and more ridiculous. Thorne and Colt were somehow to knock out a few of Goodlow and Grove’s friends, lock them in the Room of Requirement, take their hairs and turn into them to try and pry information from the two suspects. All this, whilst not knowing Goodlow and Grove well enough to know who their friends were, never mind how to impersonate them with any conviction, and not having a clue where the room of requirement was.

Carrow had suggested cutting out the ‘middle man’ and befriending their suspects themselves to find out. Despite this being the most reasonable comment yet, he only received bemused, slightly disgusted looks from Lucinda and _Scorpius_ of all people before Thorne told him not to be so ludicrous.

Which led them to where they were now, all standing around a cauldron of vile smelling, disgusting looking potion desperately not wanting to keep it where it was and having no idea where to put it.

“When we find the Room of Requirement, we’ll keep it there,” Thorne said with a nod, mostly to himself it seemed, and turned away, dropping himself onto his bed. Lucinda nodded in agreement, as if that actually solved the problem, and left, heading to her own dormitory, away from the horrible smell, whilst Colt sat down to read a book and Carrow left to see his new girlfriend. Albus glanced at Scorpius, pleading for him to see how mad this all was, but instead he looked as if it was all going to whatever idea of how this would work in his head, perfectly sane. Apparently Albus, the boy with voices in his head, was the only one who truly saw how insane this all was.

* * *

 Albus watched as the blond man swirled the dark red wine in his glass and looked up at the dark haired woman through his eyelashes. Albus felt a stab of pain shoot through his chest, as if someone had sent an arrow straight through his heart. The blood that oozed out of the wound was green, and when Albus looked back at the pair on the other side of the room, his vision was tinged green.

_How can he do this to me?!_ The voice in his head screamed. _He’s supposed to love me!_  
Albus didn’t flinch.

He didn’t know the man, or the woman, but they had a vague sense of familiarity to them. The voice in his head was as familiar as his own now, the same voice he heard in his head every day.

_And her, she’s just a slut, a whore! She’s just using him! He must know that, surely he must know that? He isn’t an idiot, but then neither is she. Neither am I. I know what she’s doing, doesn’t he understand? It was supposed to be just us, just the two of us, together. This was our project, our work, and she thinks she can just worm her way in, does she?_

“Are you alright, dear?” A voice said from beside Albus. He turned to face the round, short woman, still furious with the blond man and unaware of whom he was.   
“I’m not your _dear_ , and I’m perfectly alright,” he snapped at her, turning back to the pair as pain and worry settled in the woman’s face. Except it wasn’t really him that snapped at her, he could hear it now, it was again the low, rough voice that lived in his head. She too looked familiar, but he had no clue as to who she was.  
“It is wonderful here, don’t you think? You and Godric have made it quite lovely. How brilliant it would be to live here, as you two do.”

Albus ignored the plump, ginger woman’s insistent chatter, and watched with the green eyes of envy as the blond man tucked a lock of dark hair behind the other woman’s ear, and she laughed at something he had said, her voice like soft, high bells. Her hand: pale, elegant, delicate, moved to rest on his knee. He took it and brought it up to his lips, kissing it gently as she blushed, his eyes not moving from hers. Albus, still unknowing of who they were, could kill them both, and this annoying woman beside him.

_She’s manipulating him, and if I don’t do anything about it she’ll ruin everything! She’ll be the one he tells his secrets to, not me, she’ll be the one he takes long walks with around the garden, not me, she’ll be the one in his_ bed _, not me!_

_I can’t let that happen. I must distract him, but how?_

Albus spotted a sword beside the blond man, its golden handle encrusted with rubies. He stood and walked over to the man, forcing a smile. Startled, the pair looked up at him. A scowl grew on the woman’s face, but a surprised laugh burst from the man.

“Ah, friend, come to see my new sword, have you?” He lifted the sword from its place and motioned for Albus to sit down beside him. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Goblin made, obviously.” The man looked at Albus, his bright blue eyes shining, and without the woman being able to see him, winked.

Black started to invade Albus’ vision, his breathing quickening with his rising panic before the room started to spin and everything went black.

The next thing he knew, he was kissing the blond man desperately in a bedroom he didn’t recognise. Strong hands twisted in his hair, longer than he remembered, pulling him closer and rocking their hips together. A spike of arousal shot up through Albus and he let out a low, needy moan that really didn’t sound like him at all. The man pushed him down, his back hit the soft bed, and this time the man didn’t shift, didn’t become Albus’ best friend, hungry and aroused with the wrong man’s name on his lips, this time he stayed as he was, long golden hair messy and flowing over his shoulders, the blue of his eyes swallowed whole by his pupils.

“Salazar,” he breathed, the name filled with longing, and leapt atop him.

* * *

 Albus didn’t dare mention that his dreams had returned along with the clear, snide comments at everything he did when he found himself finally alone with Scorpius after a rough round of Quidditch practise, the first one after the holidays. Scorpius was lying back on Albus’ bed, arms behind his head, watching him as he ran his hands through his still wet hair and pulled off his boots. He looked gorgeous as ever, like some pale Viking god, and Albus could hardly deny how much he loved having him on his bed, laid out and quietly waiting for him, not that there was any point now. Scorpius knew, Albus could see it in the line of his faint smirk, his slightly enlarged pupils, the way he shifted his hips and stretched his arms every time Albus glanced at him.

“Where are the others?” Scorpius said, quiet enough to be a whisper, intimate in the absence of all other noise. Albus swallowed, the sound loud to his ears.  
“Carrow and Thorne are at the library, Colt’s with Emilie Jean, Lucinda’s off shagging Calin somewhere.”  
Scorpius smiled, pretty and innocent as you like, and spread his legs, just a little, inviting him to come in between them. Albus bit down on his lip, fighting back to noise that wanted to escape just at the sight of him. Scorpius wanted him and was revelling in the fact that Albus wanted him too.  
“So none of them will be back for a while?” He was smirking fully now, the action twisting his beautiful lips. Albus breathed in deeply, trying to force himself to calm down just a little.  
“Yeah,” he breathed.

Scorpius grinned and reached for him at the same time as Albus’ resolved crumbled entirely and he moved towards him, quicker than lightning, on top of him before he had even thought to be there. Scorpius’ grin stretched impossibly wider, his hand went to the back of his head, tightening in his dark hair, tugging him forward to catch his lips in a fierce, desperate kiss. It was messy and their teeth kept crashing as their tongues tangled and it was so perfect Albus couldn’t think. He was dizzy in seconds, his lungs burning, his trousers tighter than they’d ever been. His hands were everywhere, in Scorpius’ hair, running down his lightly toned chest, pushing up his shirt, fingertips dipping beneath his waistband and from the loud, breathy moans emanating from Scorpius now kiss-bruised lips, he was liking it as much as him.

“Scorp,” Albus gasped, pushing the other boy away, panting heavily, his nose still barely an inch from Scorpius’.  
“Al,” Scorpius said back, sounding significantly more composed, the bastard. But he could see that he wasn’t really, his pupils blown wide, his irises a thin silver strip between white and black, his hips still pressed deliciously tight to Albus’, his erection long and hard against his, his hands still rubbing circles at Albus’ waist. Albus wanted to be closer, harder, he wanted to crawl inside his chest and stay there forever, to be devoured by him, to devour him.

He opened his mouth to speak, and certainly didn’t expect to say, “What are we Scorp?”  
The lust left Scorpius’ gaze in an instant, his eyes turning strangely defensive. “Whatever you want us to be.” His hands, which had stopped moving when Albus had asked the question, dropped to his sides and he looked away, his expression somehow hurt.  
Albus had no idea what to say to that, so said the first thing that came to mind, “I want to be everything.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew they were a mistake. True, but a mistake. It was far too much, far too soon, and this could still mean nothing to Scorpius.  
Scorpius’ head snapped back in an instant, eyes searching Albus’ looking for something in them, though Albus really had no idea what. He began to pull away, sure that he’d ruined everything, when Scorpius hands were in his hair again, lifting his head to meet Albus’ lips with a sweet, gentle kiss.

“You mean it?” he asked, so tentative for a second Albus was scared of breaking him.  
“Of course.”  
Scorpius kissed him again, and Albus stopped thinking about anything other than the feeling of him under his hands.

* * *

 The seventh floor corridor was empty, all bar a pair of giddy, giggling Slytherin boys. Every now and then, one would pull the other to him, or push him into a wall, kissing the other, leaving both dizzy and breathless and desperately needing to find somewhere more private than the corridors or their full common rooms to do this.

They circled twice, pulling and tugging at each other, lips finding lips or cheeks or necks or hands every chance they could get. Albus Severus Potter was happy and in love. The petrification of students was still happening, yes, but the potion was finished, and no longer being kept in their dorm room, and they only had to find the room of requirement and then they’d find out who it was and save the wizarding world and his dad would finally be proud of him, but in all honesty the importance of all that fell away when Scorpius was holding his hand, sending him quick, lustful looks and kissing him silly every few minutes.

They circled again, and Scorpius crowded him up against an empty wall, lips descending on his in hungry desperate kisses. Except his back wasn’t against a wall, and when Scorpius pushed harder, the two of them fell backwards through a set of huge doors into a room neither of them had ever seen before, that Albus was sure wasn’t on the map. His head almost cracked against the wooden floor, Scorpius catching him just in time, but neither were looking at each other. Two pairs of big, round eyes looked as the luxurious room, couches of various shapes and sizes in various positions, the room dominated by a huge bed in the centre, like a larger version of the ones in their room.

“We’ve found it,” Scorpius muttered, under his breath.  
“The Room of Requirement.” Albus looked at Scorpius, his eyes resting on the inviting looking bed now that he’d scanned the room. “We should tell the others.”  
Scorpius nodded, and straightened up. “Yeah.” For a second, Albus’ heart dropped, disappointment flooding through him. “But first, that bed looks soft.”  
Albus only grinned.

* * *

 The waiting was the worst part. They’d done everything they could to get this ready, to give Thorne and Colt the best chance possible, and now they had to wait. The potion seemed to smell even worse now that it was ready, sitting in front of them in the room of requirement, waiting for the sources of the final ingredients. Even Lucinda was standing away from it, her wand out and ready for the next task; to stun five students and to keep them here for the next few hours. She, unlike the rest of them, would not be spying on Grove and Goodlow, since they needed someone to watch to make sure no-one found out. Carrow would have been a better choice, he was much better at offensive spells and obliviating people, and Lucinda had volunteered, and they’d went with it; she was good enough.

_This is ridiculous. Such stupid children, can’t even work it out for yourselves._

The voice in his head was never pleasant now, always sneering, the sound scraping against Albus’ brain. He tried his best not to flinch, but he could see the way Scorpius glanced at him, concern on his face, and guessed he’d failed badly.

Before he had a chance to make up some excuse, the doors, smaller now than they had been when he and Scorpius had found the room, swung open and in poured Colt and Thorne, dragging, pushing and otherwise forcing five other terrified students through with them. Albus didn’t know their names, or anything else about them, but still, he raised his wand and shouted, “Stupefy!” along with the rest of his friends, and one by one, the five strangers fell to the ground.

“Incarcerous!” Lucinda yelled as soon as they hit the floor, thick rope sprouting from her wand, binding her prisoners’ arms and legs together, then the five of them together, now sitting in a circle on the ground, still unconscious. Her face twitched once, quickly, with guilt and Albus felt his gut mirror the feeling, but they hadn’t time to waste.

Thorne knelt over one of the students, a girl, about fifteen, Ravenclaw and plucked a red hair from her head. “This is Angelica Dower,” he said, dropping the hair into a cup of potion Carrow and scooped up. He took the cup back and eyes the cup warily for a second before gulping it down.

Instantly, he began to change. He shrank, maybeat least a few inches, his dark brown hair shifting to Angelica’s golden red, growing down past his shoulders. Within seconds, an exact double of the sleeping girl stood before them, looking extremely awkward in Thorne’s ill-fitting Slytherin robes.

“Definitely works then,” Lucinda muttered as Thorne plucked another students head and passed the complete potion to Carrow, then gave another to Scorpius, and another to Albus. He watched as the former sludgy potion turned a bright, shining blue that reminded him immediately of Teddy’s hair. Guilt churned his gut again; he swallowed it down before he had much more chance to think about it.

It was, and would remain so, the worse thing he’d ever drank in his life. Pain ripped at his insides, which felt like they were trying to wriggle themselves outside of his body, he stretched even taller, someone was pouring hot wax onto his skin. He screwed up his eyes against the pain, trying to shove it away, force it somewhere else. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe-

And then it was gone. Albus opened his eyes and watched silently as Colt finished his transformation, then looked at the rest of his transformed friends one by one. There was certainly no going back now.

* * *

 It made sense that Thorne should go to spy on Ottilie Grove. If she was in her common room, he’d get in, most riddles nothing but a passing thought to him. He thought most like a Ravenclaw overall, perhaps not like a fourteen year old girl, but they had limited options on that front.

“She’s in the Ravenclaw common room right now,” Lucinda had told them before they’d left. “She has double potions at two, defence against the dark arts at four. You’re her best friends, Angelica Dower and Caitlin Jacobson, both of you Muggleborn, you met after the sorting ceremony.” She paused a second, looking down at the notes she’d made herself about each of her prisoners, still unconscious on the floor. “Angelica,” she looked pointedly at Thorne, “you had a brother and a sister, both younger and Muggle. You’re favourite class is Charms, you have a crush on Markus Carrow.” Carrow, the elder, snorted behind her, the action looking odd in a body not his own. Lucinda sent him a scathing glare and continued. “Caitlin, you have six older half-siblings, three magical, three not. I think one’s a werewolf?” She consulted her notes again and nodded. “Yes, the second eldest. You firmly believe in werewolf rights, and your favourite class is care of magical creatures.”

Albus stared at her, soaking up the information, hoping that somehow any of this was going to be helpful, and relevant. He doubted it. Lucinda looked between them and her parchment one last time before saying, “Off you go then,” briskly, and turning to the other three.

Now, they stood before the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. The door was large and solid, undecorated, not even by a handle, bar the huge eagle shaped bronze knocker. The boys, girls now, perhaps, glanced at each other quickly before Albus reached forward and knocked three times, and knock sending a booming noise throughout the quiet corridor. They didn’t have to wait long on it answering.

“What came first, the phoenix or the egg?”

Thorne didn’t miss a beat. “A circle has no beginning.” The door swung open in an instant, and the Slytherins in Ravenclaw clothing stepped through.

The common room was nothing like their own. It wasn’t particularly warm, but spacious and breezy, circular, decorated in blue and bronze, a large stone statue of who Albus assumed was Rowena Ravenclaw in one corner, two stairways leading up and down behind her. Casting about, Albus caught sight of one Ottilie Grove, dark haired, hazel eyed, smiling widely at someone sitting beside her, sitting in a dark blue armchair beside the window. He nudged his companion with his elbow, and the pair made their way towards her.

Desperately trying to think of how Lily acted, Albus plopped down into an empty seat to her left, Thorne taking the spare seat beside him. Grove turned to them both and smiled sweetly. “Angie, Cait, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?”  
“Oh just the library,” Thorne replied, switching his voice to a slightly more feminine version of his normal smooth, deep voice. Grove frowned slightly and then smiled again.  
“Finally taken to studying? You know we don’t have to yet, OWLs aren’t until next year.” There was something rather patronising in her voice, Albus didn’t know whether or not to dismiss it as misplaced kindness when she turned to her other friend.  
“Lotta’s just been saying she thinks there’s a lot less people in the Hospital wing than there was, isn’t that good? Maybe whoever is opening it has given up.” There was something rather sly in the way she looked at them, and Albus didn’t know whether it was because she was suspicious of them, but he certainly didn’t trust her. You would have to be extremely naïve, stupid or guilty to come out with that comment, and she certainly didn’t seem any of the former.  
“Do you think?” Thorne said, impersonating someone terribly naïve with his wide eyes and wistful tone. Grove only smiled sweetly again.

* * *

 They stayed with Grove for the rest of the day, her dropping more and more terribly concealed hints that she was guilty and seeming completely unsuspicious, despite the fact that all her other friends seemed to be extremely so. She defended their odd behaviour at every turn, and Albus wondered when she had figured out they were fakes.

Making their excuses after defence against the dark arts where Grove made a rousing speech about werewolf rights, despite it being completely unrelated to the topic they were covering, the boys bolted back to the room of requirement, and with no time to loose. As soon as they put their feet through the door, they began to shift back into their normal selves, stretching and burning and twisting and ripping through the girls clothes until Albus caught sight of himself in the mirror and looked his normal self.

“It’s Grove,” Thorne panted, hands on his knees, still looking faintly sick. The voice in Albus; head started laughing so hard he could barely hear anything else.  
“Really?” Carrow sounded shocked, in his own body and in the middle of putting his own clothes back on. Scorpius and Colt were there too, redressing; they too must have just made it back in time.  
“And Dower and Jackson know, they’re covering for her, she’s got something on them.” What, Albus still wasn’t sure.  
“Are you absolutely sure it’s her? We’ll go to the Headmaster right now,” Scorpius said quickly, avoiding Albus’ gaze. Colt and Lucinda were making their way to the door, but Carrow stood stock still, staring at his friends.

_He doesn’t trust you he never has,_ hissed the voice is his head.

“Have you got any evidence?” he asked slowly. “Without proof, we can’t even get her questioned.”  
“No,” Thorne spat, straightening up and glaring at his best friend. Albus shocked at the anger in his voice, he’d never ever heard Thorne speak like that. “Why are you trying to stop this working _Carrow_?” he sneered his name liked it was some kind of foul word.  
“Shut up Thorne, Carrow’s right,” Colt defended, and Alus could see where this was going, he;d done it himself.  
“Enough,” he heard himself say, socked at his own interference. “We’re tired, lets go to bed, we’ll discuss it again in the morning.”  
“Someone could die Albus!” Thorne shouted, eyes wide.  
“Thorne, leave it. Colt and Al are right, we’ll talk to them in the morning,” Scorpius said, placing his hand on Thorne’s shoulder, clearly trying to placate him. Thorne shot him the dirtiest look Albus had ever seen him throw, and stalked out without another word.

Lucinda and Carrow quickly obliviated the people they’d captured and released them before Carrow, Colt and Lucinda trailed after Thorne, and when they were alone, Albus reached for Scorpius hand, the feel of it comforting his hammering heart.

“What is going on with them,” he murmured, following so far behind, none of them would see the way there hands were clasped tightly together.  
“I have no idea.”


	10. Chapter 9: The Chamber of Secrets

* * *

 The atmosphere in the dorm could be cut with a knife. Scorpius and Albus both sat on the end of Scorpius’ bed, watching silently as Carrow and Thorne avoided each other, not even looking in the others direction. Colt looked as shocked as they did, quietly moving around the room, getting ready for bed though its hours till lights out. Albus and Scorpius chanced a quick glance at each other, checking that the other was as confused as shocked as they were, but even that was spotted by the glowering boys.

“What?” Carrow snapped, glaring at them both like they were the ones being obscure. He sighed loudly, aggrievedly and pulled the curtains around his bed shut so forcefully Albus thought they might rip. Thorne sent the curtains a sharp glare and then did the same.

Now that Albus was free to look at his best friend, he did so, to see Scorpius’ blonde eyebrows so high they were almost in his hair, looking utterly ridiculous. He snorted, trying to fight down his laughter, burying his head in Scorpius neck, grateful for the distraction.

“Come on,” Scorpius whispered, reaching down to pull something from under the bed. “Let’s get out of here.” He placed the Marauders Map on his lap, picked a place and they were off.

* * *

 What would have been grey morning light, now tinged green as it filtered through the Black Lake, flooded the common room. Finally, it was Saturday, no classes, no studying to be done, just a huge terror crime to solve.

Albus and Scorpius sat together in an armchair that was really not big enough for the both of them, still in their pyjamas, watching as Lucinda yawned, Colt thought and Carrow and Thorne avoided each other, still. They were the only ones up, due to their early bedding, and the common room was silent bar the snoring of portraits and the quiet sounds of their breathing.

“We need more proof before we go to Professor Flitwick,” Colt said eventually after a long few minutes contemplation.  
“But how are we going to get more?” Thorne snapped. “We need to go now!”  
Albus agreed, and said so, less angry about it than Thorne, but Lucinda shook her head.  
“We know nothing more than we did last night, there’s nobody else in the hospital wing, we still have no evidence other than a feeling you two have.”  
“But she could still be questioned!” Albus exclaimed, the utter dismissal of his and Thorne’s knowledge unacceptable.  
“Yes, they could question her, and find nothing, and find out we were all making an illegal potion and spying on other students. We’d end up in more trouble than her,” Scorpius said softly behind him, mouth almost at his ear. He could see sense it what Scorpius was saying, let the words wash over him, calm his fraying nerves.  
Colt and Carrow were nodding, Lucinda having shifted herself practically into Carrow’s lap, feet in Thorne’s. He glared at her as Carrow started running his hands through her hair, but let her bare feet stay. Albus smiled to himself, no longer jealous at the obvious displays of affection, not when Scorpius was pressed up all along his side, subtly drawing circles on the back of the hand nearest him.

Still, they all practically jumped out of their seats and Calin came bounding down the stairs, grinning when he spotted his girlfriend, even in her strange position. He sprang up to her on his long legs, bending down to kiss her softly. They all watched, Colt rolling his eyes as Lucinda leaned further into him, letting him lift her bridal style off the sofa and carry her away to another part of the common room. For a moment, they broke away from each other, Calin sending them all a wink before they curled up on a spare armchair. Albus, without being noticed by the rest of his companions he hoped, leaned into Scorpius, he changed from doodling on his hands to holding it, twining their fingers together. Not subtly enough, apparently, from the look Thorne gave them and the raised eyebrow. Scorpius only shrugged and tugged Albus closer.

* * *

 Albus was so high up in the air, the players below him were little more than ants. He shouldn’t be this high, it was stupid, unless he was chasing the snitch. Which of course he wasn’t, he was flying high to think; about Grove and Thorne and Carrow and how in hell they were going to get more substantial proof of Grove’s guilt and of how lovely Scorpius had been that morning, kissing him softly, lazily in his bed until the others had woken up.

Grove was guilty, Albus had no doubt. The way she’d acted, all innocent and naïve, had been completely at odds with the looks she’d sent her ‘friends’; there was no way it was just suspicion of them. Even if she had been suspicious, acting the way she did just made her seem guilty, and that surely hadn’t been her intention, had it? Why would anyone purposefully act guilty, without giving any solid evidence of them being so, if they weren’t? So that when they reported her, they be in trouble not her? That was obviously why she’d been so subtle about it, so that even though they knew, they couldn’t prove it, admitting to having been spying or otherwise.

Albus was briefly distracted from his ponderings by a fierce roar from the Slytherins’ signalling another score. He could almost make out the sound of Hugo announcing it, probably sounding utterly scathing, like he always did whenever they scored, or worse yet, won. The thought sent a prickle on anger coursing through Albus, he dropped lower, eyes finally casting about for the golden spec that would be the snitch, convinced now that they had to win, if only to show Hugo up.

Except he was too late. The Hufflepuff seeker was racing, fast as lighting, towards something Albus couldn’t see, hand outstretched. Albus gave chase, but knew it would make no difference. Indeed, he was still meters away when the other seeker’s hand wrapped around the snitch, raising her fist into the air causing wild, deafeningly loud cheering from everyone but the Slytherins. Albus lowered himself to the ground as the seeker was carted off on her teammates shoulders, ignore the glares from his own, and sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

Calin, of course, came storming up to him as soon as they were inside the locker rooms.  
“What was all that about?” he yelled, startling everybody. Calin never shouted, ever. Albus’ gaze dropped to the floor, guiltily fiddling with his gloves. It was his fault, entirely, he knew he should have been paying attention.  
“Leave it.” He was surprised to see Avery coming to his defence, glaring openly at Calin.  
“There’s a lot of shit going on right now, no one if completely focused,” Lucinda added. Calin looked once from his girlfriend to Albus and sighed, nodding.  
“Alright,” he conceded, throwing his arm around Lucinda’s shoulders. “But pay more attention next time.”  
Lucinda sent him an encouraging smile over her shoulder and he returned it gratefully before heading to the showers.

* * *

 Albus watched as the blond man swirled the dark red wine in his glass and looked up at the dark haired woman through his eyelashes. Albus felt a stab of pain shoot through his chest, as if someone had sent an arrow straight through his heart. The blood that oozed out of the wound was green, and when Albus looked back at the pair on the other side of the room, his vision was tinged green.

_How can he do this to me?!_ The voice in his head screamed. _He’s supposed to love me!_  
Albus didn’t flinch.

He didn’t know the man, or the woman, but they had a vague sense of familiarity to them. The voice in his head was as familiar as his own now, the same voice he heard in his head every day.

_And her, she’s just a slut, a whore! She’s just using him! He must know that, surely he must know that? He isn’t an idiot, but then neither is she. Neither am I. I know what she’s doing, doesn’t he understand? It was supposed to be just us, just the two of us, together. This was our project, our work, and she thinks she can just worm her way in, does she?_

“Are you alright, dear?” A voice said from beside Albus. He turned to face the round, short woman, still furious with the blond man and unaware of whom he was.   
“I’m not your _dear_ , and I’m perfectly alright,” he snapped at her, turning back to the pair as pain and worry settled in the woman’s face. Except it wasn’t really him that snapped at her, he could hear it now, it was again the low, rough voice that lived in his head. She too looked familiar, but he had no clue as to who she was.  
“It is wonderful here, don’t you think? You and Godric have made it quite lovely. How brilliant it would be to live here, as you two do.”

Albus ignored the plump, ginger woman’s insistent chatter, and watched with the green eyes of envy as the blond man tucked a lock of dark hair behind the other woman’s ear, and she laughed at something he had said, her voice like soft, high bells. Her hand: pale, elegant, delicate, moved to rest on his knee. He took it and brought it up to his lips, kissing it gently as she blushed, his eyes not moving from hers. Albus, still unknowing of who they were, could kill them both, and this annoying woman beside him.

_She’s manipulating him, and if I don’t do anything about it she’ll ruin everything! She’ll be the one he tells his secrets to, not me, she’ll be the one he takes long walks with around the garden, not me, she’ll be the one in his_ bed _, not me!_

_I can’t let that happen. I must distract him, but how?_

Albus spotted a sword beside the blond man, its golden handle encrusted with rubies. He stood and walked over to the man, forcing a smile. Startled, the pair looked up at him. A scowl grew on the woman’s face, but a surprised laugh burst from the man.

* * *

 Albus woke with a start, ripped from his dream with a hand to his shoulders, someone holding him close, sobbing into his shoulder. He moved to pull away before realising that the someone was Scorpius, and that they were standing upright. A sinking feeling came over him, of dread and understanding finally settling in. Albus didn’t look around, was terrified to, and instead buried his face in Scorpius’ shoulder.

He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve him, not after what he’d done, conscious of it or not. His family had been right, of course, Slytherin _was_ an evil house, but it wasn’t his friends that were the problem, it was him. He was the Heir to Slytherin, and he’d been opening the Chamber, night after night in his sleep.

Scorpius arms suddenly tightened around him and then let go, just as fast, almost entirely, still holding one hand tightly in his own. Finally, Albus drew up his courage from the soles of is feet and looked around.

He didn’t recognise the room they were in, a bathroom, clearly, stalls all along both sides. Lucinda, Colt, Thorne and Carrow were all there, all in their pyjamas, looking variations of sick and terrified and horrified and hurt, all staring, not at Albus, but at whatever was behind him.

He knew without having to turn, that the entrance would be there, open and glaringly obvious for all to see who’d opened it. The snake might even be there, ready to do his bidding. He wanted to hide, to run away and never come back, to cry and cry until his lungs burned and he couldn’t see. Instead, he looked at Scorpius, brushed his fingers down his cheeks, wet with his tears, and span around.

Behind him a stall of sinks, except one was missing. Where it should have stood, a huge gaping hole, plenty big enough for two people to fit in, was in the ground, the entrance to an underground pipe. It stank of damp, and where the light hit the inner walls he could see thick slick slime, green and black marbled together, the pipe leading straight down into absolute blackness.

Albus felt sick, waves of nausea rolling over him, his hands were clammy, he felt both too hot and too cold. He shook his head, still peering over the edge, fighting the sickness, knowing what he had to do. He had to go in, kill the snake. Only he could do it, it would only listen to him, even if he died in the process.

A hand grasped his wrist, slipping down to hold is hand, twining their fingers together. Scorpius didn’t say anything, looking at him with those beautiful pale eyes, understanding written all over his face. He nodded to Albus’ unspoken question _Will you come with me?_ and Albus nodded back.

“One,” he said, quietly enough that their friends wouldn’t hear them.  
“Two,” Scorpius whispered back.  
“Three.” And then they jumped in.

“Albus! Scorpius!” The shouts of their friends filled the pipe as they fell into nothingness. It was pitch black, Albus could feel Scorpius all up against his side, but couldn’t even see his bright white hair in the gloom. His back was slick with slime, speeding up their descent. Suddenly they passed another hole, probably an entrance to an adjacent pipe, the air rushing past them, smelling even worse than the air in the main pipe.

A clang sounded somewhere further up the tunnel, immediately followed by what sounded like another body speeding down the pipes and terrified shouts of, “Carrow!  
“What are you doing?” Scorpius shouted behind them. “Stay there!”  
The clanging sounds happened again, three times, one after another, followed by the slick sliding sounds of the rest of their friends slipping down the pipe.  
“Idiots,” Scorpius hissed beside him as they passed more pipe openings.  
Albus stayed silent, secretly glad they’d followed, though he knew it just meant they’d all die. Maybe, just maybe, they’d survive with all of them.

After what felt like hours of falling straight down, the pipe seemed to flatten out and then they were flying out the end, slamming into a cold, hard, damp ground. Pain flashed through Albus as his head smacked off the floor, but he forced himself up, feeling for his best friend and hauling him up along with him.  
“Scorp, are you alright?” he asked, feeling for him still stuck in the blackness.  
He felt him nod, heard the faint, “Yeah,” before something else came crashing into them. Scorpius threw himself backwards, dragging Albus with him, wand out and ready to fight the enemy.  
They heard a scuffling, a muttered, “Sorry, sorry-”  
“Lumos maxima!” Lucinda shouted behind them, the room flooding with light as Lucinda, Colt and Thorne all exploded out the end of the huge pipe at once.  
Carrow stepped out of the way and leaned over to pull both of his best friends up. Relief washed through Albus as he watched Lucinda stand and attempt to brush slime off herself, Carrow and Thorne, checking them all for injuries.

“You bloody idiots!” Scorpius shouted, he opened his mouth to continue, but in the silent pause between one breath and the next, the sobbing, quiet and half-muffled reached their ears.

Albus turned, looked at Colt, still kneeling on the floor, cradling his right arm to his chest, and vomited up the remains of his dinner from that evening that felt years away from this moment. One of the smashed bones of Colt’s arm had ripped through the skin, the second half of his forearm and hand twisted at a revolting angle, blood soaking the floor at his knees, covering his pyjamas, his arms, spattered across his face.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Carrow hissed, staring at Colt with wide eyes, hands threaded through his hair. Lucinda was staring, still as a statue, face grey and scared, and Albus found himself still dry retching loudly.  
“Shit shit shit,” Scorpius was muttering to himself, pacing in the tiny room. “We have to get him out of here.”  
Thorne seemed to be the only person doing anything. He said a spell Albus couldn’t hear over the rushing in his ears, and summoned a bandage. Quick as a flash, he’d wrapped up Colt’s arm and put it into a sling, helping him stand and looking along the pipe.  
“How do we even get out of here?” Carrow shrieked, looking more terrified even than Lucinda, who was still staring speechless.  
“Colt,” Thorne was whispering, trying to calm him. “Do you think you could fly?”  
Colt only continued sobbing, crying harder when his shoulders shook.  
“Accio Lucinda’s broom!” Thorne called out.  
This seemed to bring Lucinda out of her daze. “I can’t-”  
“You have no choice, Luce!” Thorne shouted at her. She was crying now, Carrow joining Scorpius in his pacing and Albus was still desperately trying to breathe and not vomit some more.  
“I can’t,” she cried. “I’m sorry!”

They didn’t have more time to argue as Lucinda’s broom came shooting down the pipe, Thorne grabbing it before it, like Colt arm, shattered against the ground. He maneuvered Colt onto the broom, threw his own leg over and zoomed off back up the pipe, without saying another word.

“Go to Flitwick too,” Carrow called after him.  
There was no answer, and when they heard crashing and a shout, Albus found himself well enough to shout, “Are you alright?”  
“Yeah, we’ll be fine!” Thorne shouted back, his voice echoing loudly. “Just kill the snake!”

Finally, Albus looked around, taking in the long tunnel, the stone walls slick with what he hoped was water, strange coloured mould growing in patches where the wall met the ceiling and floor. Fear crept up is spine, whispering in his mind _run, run, run_. He forced it down, reached into his pyjama bottoms for his wand and took a step forward, the voice in his head cackling all the while.

* * *

 The four remaining Slytherins walked for what felt like miles, the tunnel twisting and turning, the only sound their breathing and their footsteps against the hard stone floor. Albus still felt faintly sick, the feeling overpowered by the fear pricking at the back of his neck, making the hairs there stand on end. Lucinda didn’t look good either, and Albus thought it best not to say a word when he noticed Carrow holding her hand tightly between them.

Eventually, once Albus’ leg muscles were aching from their slow, constant progress, they came across small pieces of rubble lying in their path. Albus shot Scorpius a questioning look, but the other boy, looking so tired and scared Albus hated himself completely for bringing him here, only shrugged and tried a tiny smile.

“Keep going,” Lucinda said from behind them, her eyes trained ahead. She and Carrow were close enough to their backs to reach out and touch, to grasp on if they needed to.  
Scorpius nodded, and grabbed Albus’ hand, and they continued on.

They didn’t get far. Another turn and they found out when they rubble had originated from. At the other end of the never ending tunnel was what Albus guessed had once been a wall of rubble that was now punctured with a massive circular hole, big enough, presumably, for a basilisk to pass through. Albus didn’t let himself think about it, just bit his lip and crawled through, his friends following behind him.

The other side ended abruptly in a solid wall, emblazoned with two intertwined silver snakes.

“Shit,” Carrow hissed, finally letting go of Lucinda to take a closer look at the wall. “Have we missed the turning?”  
“That’s the door to the Chamber.” Lucinda spoke as if she knew, without any doubt, but Albus heard to slightest quiver in her voice.  
“How do we get past it?” Carrow was looking at Albus, his brown eyes scared, so so scared.  
“The same way we got here. Albus has to open it,” Scorpius said, quiet, his grey eyes trained on Albus’.  
“How?” he whispered. He could feel the tears burning behind his eyes, the need to cry building in his throat.  
“You told it to.” Scorpius sounded so confident, like he trusted Albus could get them through, defeat the snake, fix what he’d destroyed. Albus wanted to believe him so badly he could almost taste it, and staring into his face he knew what he had to do.  
He turned to the wall, looked at the eyes of the snakes that looked completely alive, and said, “Let us enter the Chamber of Secrets.”

Except he didn’t actually get around to saying it. Instead, something was ripped from him.

He screamed, white hot pain flooding him, filled him up till it was spilling out of him, blasting from his eyes, his mouth, his fingers and toes were burning and he was going to die he was going to die he was going to die.

He felt arms around him, pulling him up, people talking to him over and over, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying, couldn’t accept help or comfort, he was too busy burning from the inside out.

* * *

 When the pain faded, he was in a different room. His knees hurt, he assumed from falling to his knees and his eyes were stinging from unshed tears. There were voices, voices he knew but couldn’t place, joining with the voices of Carrow, Lucinda and Scorpius. He forced his eyes open, looked around the room and got stuck on the two figures beside Scorpius, all three arguing and looking back and forth between each other and him. Rose and James, both in day uniform, the red from their ties looking strange in the dim greenish light of them room.

“What are you doing here?” he croaked, his voice half destroyed from his earlier screaming.  
“We came to save you from these idiots!” James shouted, lunging forward to kneel at his side, Rose fast on his heels. Scorpius stared at him for a moment before walking away, turning towards Carrow and Lucinda who stood a few paces away, leaning against a pillar covered in snake paintings.  
“It’s me,” Albus admitted. “It’s my fault.”  
That brought Scorpius rushing back. “This is not your fault,” he snapped, shoving Rose and James aside to hold his hand, his other hand going for his hair. “This is the voice in your head, this is _not your fault._ ”  
Albus reached out for his face as the other boys tears fell onto their joined hands, streaking wet trails down his face to drip slowly from his chip. And Albus couldn’t help himself really, no matter that his brother and his cousin and his friends were all looking at them, he needed comfort, and to comfort, and it was the easiest way to go. He leaned forward and kissed Scorpius gently on the mouth, pouring all is love and gratefulness into that one press of lips against lips.  
“It’s not your fault either, Scorp.”  
Scorpius smiled sadly, and brushed his hand through Albus’ hair, pointed not looking at James and Rose. Albus arose, sending a reproachful look at James and Rose, and let himself be led to Carrow and Lucinda.

Shockingly, it was Carrow that got to him first. The other boy, leapt for him, throwing his arms around him and hugging him so tightly Albus couldn’t breathe.  
“We thought you’d died!” he shouted, pulling back enough to send him a heated glare before pulling him close again. Albus felt a surprising wash of love pass over him, from Carrow and again from Lucinda who pushed him away to hold Albus close too.  
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“So,” Albus said once his friend had let him go, surreptitiously wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Where are we?”  
“In the Chamber,” Rose said.  “We got here just after that thing burst out of you and opened it.”  
“What thing?” Albus’ gaze snapped onto his cousin who was peering at him with questioning eyes.  
“Something, like a ghost, came out of you when you tried to open the chamber,” Scorpius said, coming to stand beside him.  
“It opened the chamber then disappeared,” added James, looking strangely guilty.

But Albus didn’t have time to think about James’ guilt, because Lucinda was screaming.


	11. Chapter 10: Salazar Slytherin

* * *

The scream was short and sharp, filled with fear and shock, and utterly terrifying. The laugh that echoed through the chamber directly afterwards was worse though, so much worse. It was familiar, so familiar Albus he felt he might cry. It belonged, undoubtedly, to the voice in his head. Except it wasn’t in his head, it was coming from the other side of the room. Albus turned slowly, fear gripping at his stomach, but he had to see, had to confirm what he’d known all along.

The man was younger than Albus had expected, older than Albus, but not by much. Perhaps James’ age. Much younger than the portraits of him that hung in the Slytherin common room. He had a full head of long black hair, and a short, well-trimmed beard that masked half his pale face. He would have been attractive if it weren’t the cruel smirk still playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Who are you?” Rose asked, quick and brave, but Albus heard the quiver in her voice.

At that, Salazar Slytherin stood up straight from his position leaning against a pillar and his cruel smirk turned into a gleeful smile. “My name,” he said in a low, deep voice, “is Salazar Slytherin.”

Beside him, he heard Scorpius gasp, the sound echoed by his friends, but Albus had come to know the voice in his head, and he knew this might go on for a while.

“Yes,” Slytherin hissed, his eyes practically glowing with triumph. “The one and only. If in ghost form.” He looked at them all in turn, glowering ever so slightly as his gaze landed on Rose and James’ red and gold uniforms, waiting for further awe. “I see you already know my host, dear Albus.”

Albus tried not to shiver in disgust at the way he said his name, gently, softly, like they were lovers. Scorpius moved closer, just an inch, the back of his hand brushing against Albus’. A small comfort to try and force away the fear.

“And my darling Scorpius! What fun we’ve had!”

Albus, like all the rest of them, snapped his head towards Scorpius. His face was red, flushed with embarrassment and anger, his eyes only fleetingly meeting Albus’ before flicking to the ground.

“You helped-” Carrow’s angry cry was cut off by Salazar laughing again, high and cruel.  
“No, boy, he had no idea, he thought it was _uhh Albus oh just there_.”  
Albus flinched, keeping his eyes on Scorpius as tears flicked down his face and Salazar imitated him moaning, seductive and mocking. He laughed again. Albus threaded his fingers with Scorpius’, giving them a slow reassuring squeeze as understanding washed over him. He was such an idiot.  
“It’s alright Scorp, you didn’t know.”  
Scorpius looked up to him and tried a small smile. It failed, but Albus held his hand tighter anyway.

“Ignore him, he’s an idiot anyway, you’re disgusting.” The scathing tone brought their attention back to the mad man in front of them, pacing back and forth now. “You’re probably all wondering how I did this.”

Nobody said a word.

“Well, that part is simple. My spirit was awakened, I’ve always kept it down here you see, when you’re father, Albus, killed my basilisk all those years ago now. I wasn’t quick enough to escape then of course, but it wasn’t too long until your parents, girl, opened the Chamber again. I managed to get out then. But there was no one suitable to keep me, no one strong enough to carry me inside them until the time was right.

“But then you came along Albus, and I thought you would actually cope, fool that I was. You seemed strong enough, given all your complete and utter failings in everything else, I thought you must have something worthwhile in you, otherwise how could you possibly have gotten into _my_ house.”

He paused in his ranting then, turning to look at the four Slytherins with disgust.

“The hat must have had some error in judgment that day, to have let you four in, never mind that filthy _mudbl-_ ”  
“Shut up!” Lucinda growled, low and dangerous as Albus had ever heard her. “Don’t even say it.”  
“And you are hardly any better! Imagine bedding one of the disgusting fiends, what would you’re great-grandfather have to say about that?” Salazar sneered. Albus had no idea of anything about Lucinda’s great-grandfather.  
“Nothing. Because he’s dead. He died in a dungeon thirty floors beneath the ground, half-mad and completely forgotten about for his crimes.” Lucinda sounded proud, proud of her hatred for a man Albus had never heard of and he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly, Lucinda’s great-grandfather had done.

Salazar only returned to his story.

“I lived inside Albus head for months without any of you noticing, not even Albus himself, my only amusement his friend who thought he wanted so much more. He did of course, just too stupid to see it, thought he wanted you instead.” He paused again to shoot Carrow a pointed look, but Carrow only stared back, nonplussed.

“And when you finally did realise, all of you, it was too late, I was already opening and closing the chamber on a regular basis, letting Elara loose on whoever she saw fit. I’d take Scorpius to bed, and when we were done and he thought himself in love, I’d come here and let her go, and be back inside you’re dorm, sound asleep when morning came.”

Albus barely noticed the hiss at the end of each sentence, each one slightly different to the one before, he was too busy thinking about how much of an egomaniac Salazar was, droning on and on.

“Now, the question is why? Why do I want to end you all, why do I want you all to die?”

He looked around at them all, some mad professor in need of interaction with his bored students.

“Because none of you should be here! And why are you here? Because of _her_.” Salazar had sounded angry before this, but nothing he’d said had quite held the fury, the hatred of that last word. “Rowena Ravenclaw, whore that she was, that thought she could come in here and take everything away from me, thought she could take _Godric_ away from me, like he’d ever want her.

“Helga was worse. At least Rowena was somewhat capable of using her brain, Helga was merely an idiot who believed in fairness and equality and kindness and thought we should let mudbloods in and Rowena, slut, thought this was a most marvellous idea and had my Godric under some kind of spell, a malformed love potion, so he agreed too and the whole bloody thing was ruined!”

Salazar paced a few strides more, pulling at his long hair, every line of him agitated and angry. Fear, which had mostly dissipated during his endless ranting, returned full force as the man span back to them, his vile smirk back.

“But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is this.” And then he made the strangest sound, a shout and a hiss that Albus couldn’t understand because Salazar wasn’t living in his head anymore, but he didn’t have time to rejoice in that fact. The snake was upon them.

She was huge, at least fifty feet long, almost as wide as Albus was tall and lunging at them with a shocking speed for an animal of her size. Albus stood, staring at her, her colossal fangs getting closer and closer, dripping with venom, frozen in place, fear and a strange sort of awe cementing him to the ground. Hands gripped his shoulders, forced him down and out of the way.

“Albus, _move!_ ” Scorpius was pressed tight against him, panic all of her pointed face, keeping Albus flat on the ground leaving his own back exposed. Albus’ heart was in his mouth, his terror multiplied to blinding levels at the thought of Scorpius being hurt. Roughly, he pushed the other boy away only to yank him up as he stood, tugging on his hand as he moved to run back down the tunnel they had came through.

James and Rose, of course, weren’t running. They stood side by side, determination and fear written all over their faces as they held their wands before them, pointing them directly at the snake.

“Stupefy!” they yelled in unison, but the spell seemed to only bounce of the basilisk’s scales and she turned to face them, her forked tongue flicking out.

“Run, you idiots!” Albus screamed over his shoulder, pointing his wand behind them and sending a wordless spell firing at the beast. He had no idea what it was, hadn’t even thought about anything except _protect_ and _save_ and _kill_. A wound, as long as Albus’ arm split open through her scales and blood gushed out, splattering the walls and the floor and the ceiling. The snake didn’t even seem to notice.

“Protego!” Lucinda screamed from the other side of the chamber, throwing a protective charm over Albus’ brother and cousin as the snake rushed to sink her fangs into the pair.

Albus paused, waiting in sick, horrified fascination to see the destruction of the Gryffindors. It didn’t come. The snake bounced off the protective charm with a strange slick sort of thud, her head and the first half of her enormous body being flung back on itself. Finally, James and Rose took their opportunity to leg it away towards the tunnel.

Scorpius tugged his hand, desperate to get away, but Albus couldn’t move, not with Carrow and Lucinda now on the other side of the chamber, trapped behind the bulk of the furious basilisk. She made a noise, inhuman, impossible, Albus would have thought for a snake, and swung herself back around to face the tunnel. She slithered forward, slowly, still confused and Albus heard Slytherin laugh delightedly, as if this was all going to plan.

 Carrow didn’t miss a minute of the snake’s confusion. He leapt, as high as he possibly could, and landed on her back, scrabbling up towards her head. She shook, like a dog trying to rid itself of water, her shifting making Carrow’s grip loosen. Scorpius was bombarding the snake with offensive spells now, James and Rose copying him from closer to the tunnel entrance, trying to maim her, kill her perhaps, aid Carrow in any way they could, but Albus’ eyes were on Lucinda as she screamed a summoning spell and held a huge sword in her hands, too heavy for her from the way she was heaving it up quietly over her head, preparing to slam it down into the basilisk’s side.

The snake turned her massive head towards her, annoyed at the small thing by her side. Albus screamed a curse, pointing his wand at the basilisk so hard he heard his elbow snap, desperate to keep her safe.

It was too late. Albus alone watched as she swung it down, slicing straight through the snake’s side. The basilisk twisted around so fast Albus barely saw the change. The force of it threw Carrow straight off her back and as he landed in a small, broken heap on the floor as the snake sank her fangs into Lucinda.

She spat her out almost immediately, pausing to look at her. Something in Albus broke, shattered completely. He didn’t recognise the noise he made, but heard Scorpius echo it, just as broken.

Scorpius moved first, still sobbing, tears streaming down his face, casting spell after spell in a stream of light at the snake. She twisted around to face him, darting forward to face him head on, and before he knew he was doing it, he was apparating and Albus was beside Scorpius, wand outstretched, panting and feeling so very dizzy.

The broken remains of his heart were pounding, full of revenge and grief and self-hatred. He was casting spells quicker than he ever had before, the basilisk being pounded over and over and over again. Huge, gaping slashes appeared all over her sides and back as she thrashed around, more blood gushing from her with every movement. James and Rose were fighting too, thrashing their wands this way and that. The basilisk was hissing in pain and anger, her tail whacking off stone columns hard enough to break them.

With one final blast of power, the snake let out a strange sort of shriek, and collapsed.

Albus paused, hand holding Scorpius’ arm. He wanted to get to Carrow and Lucinda so desperately he could kill, but he needed to make sure the basilisk was dead before they dared sneak past it.

Rose had no such hesitation. She was beside James, still by the tunnel entrance one moment, and by the snake’s head the next, raising Lucinda’s summoned sword and slamming it down on her neck. Her head was severed for her body completely, rolling slowly away, blood oozing out of the hole where her head should have met here neck. Rose let out a shout, dropping the sword and clutching her arm to her chest as Albus and Scorpius arrived at her side, James hobbling on what Albus guessed was a twisted ankle towards them.

His brown eyes were trained on Carrow and Lucinda, taking in the mess. The wash of relief Albus felt wash over him as he saw both of their eyes were open, both of them breathing, shallowly, but breathing all the same, was almost enough to knock him down. James bypassed Albus and Scorpius completely, knelt on the ground, pressed both his hands to Lucinda’s stomach, and started chanting.

Slowly, so slowly, the deep punctures in Lucinda’s stomach and sides started to heal. Albus dropped to his knees beside James, asking what he could do to help. James pushed his hands onto the parts of Lucinda that weren’t healing, the more shallow wounds, the deep scrapes along her sides.

When he’d done enough to keep her alive, he stood, his legs shaking. Scorpius grabbed hold of his arm, keeping him upright.  
“James, how-”  
“I’m going to be a Healer Al,” he said, voice weak. “I’ve been teaching myself some stuff before I start.” Guilt flooded Albus at those words; he’d had no idea. He’d assumed James would be a Qudditch player or an Auror like their dad and Teddy. He knew James no better than James knew him, perhaps not even as much.

James went to Carrow next, despite Scorpius and Rose’s protesting. Albus helped, kneeling at his side and helping James straighten the mess of bones that was Carrow’s lower body. Scorpius knelt at his side, soothing Lucinda with quiet, comforting words, and it hit Albus then, how completely he loved Scorpius. How much of an idiot he’d always been.

Without any warning, a roar split through the air. Albus stood, spinning around to face Salazar Slytherin, no longer ghostly, but in true form, though his skin looked rather scale like. The basilisk’s corpse was gone. Rose moved to his side, taking out her wand with the wrong hand as Slytherin blasted them with a wave of wandless, wordless magic. Albus drew his wand and threw up a protective charm, followed immediately by a stunning spell.

“Get back!” he snapped at Rose, fear colouring his voice. He was doing this alone, he couldn’t save them. Lucinda and Carrow were out, James was too weak to move. Rose’s wand arm was broken, and Albus knew from watching her in class she was useless with the other.

Scorpius took Rose’s place, glaring at him when he tried to tell him to save himself. Slytherin hadn’t let up on his assault, most of his spells bouncing off Albus’ protective shell, but they all knew it wouldn’t last much longer. The two boys cast spell after spell at Slytherin as he moved around the room, cackling and roaring and whispering to himself like some sort of madman. Albus guessed he was.

He knew, deep in his bones, that he wasn’t going to last any longer than his shield. He was tired, bone weary of what felt like hours of constant magic use, of the rollercoaster of heartache and hope that the evening had been, of the fact that he’d maybe had three hours sleep. It was probably morning outside of the chamber, miles above them perhaps Lily was waking up.

With a final screech from Slytherin, protection charm failed like a glass bubble surrounding them. Triumph passed over his face, settling in a smug smile as he screamed; “Avada Kedavra!”

“I’m sorry,” was all Albus said, so quiet he wasn’t entirely sure Scorpius would hear. He waved his wand, spending a spell blasting back before Salazar’s spell hit him, and collapsed.

* * *

Albus didn’t want to open his eyes, but he felt like he’d been asleep for weeks. Maybe he had. Maybe he was dead. Yet he felt better, somehow, even with the aching in every part of his body and the heavy knowledge that he’d been the cause of so many injuries, possibly even deaths in the school, than he had in months. He searched for the voice in his head, to make sure Salazar Slytherin was truly gone, and found nothing but his own painful thoughts.

“Albus?” a soft voice asked. Familiar. His mother? “Albus?”

Finally, he opened his eyes, just a crack of green, and saw a flash of orange-red hair and then arms were around him, and Ginny Potter was crying into his shoulder.

“Oh Albus.” She was sobbing, a hand brushing through his hair. “We were so worried. We’re so worried.”  
Guilt settled on him then, even more than before, heavy and suffocating. He’d never once considered his parents when he’d stood  face to face with the founder of his house, certain death for him and his brother the only plausible outcome.  
“It’s okay Mum, I’m alright,” he croaked, his voice rough and dry from lack of use. “Is everybody…” He didn’t say the final word, left it hanging in the air. _Alive? Okay?_

Ginny never got a chance to answer, the main doors slamming open and a pair of heavy footsteps rushing towards him. Albus opened his eyes fully and saw his father running towards him, such relief on his face he was half surprised he was able to stand. Tears were brimming in his green eyes, Albus’ eyes, the eyes of a grandmother neither of them knew, and his mother moved away so Harry too could hold him. Albus, much to his own surprise, hugged him back tightly.

“Albus, Albus, Albus,” he said over and over again into Albus’ hair, like he thought he’d never have a chance to say his name again. “You silly, brave, wonderful boy.”

Albus’ heart constricted painfully, so pleased with the praise and now filled with dread at the thought of what had become of his friends. He patted his dad’s back and bit his lip, forcing the tears back.

“Dad, not to cut this short, but what happened to everyone?”

His father pulled back and sat in the available seat by his bed, his mother taking the other one. He looked tired, worn out, and ever so slightly wary. Dread settled in Albus’ stomach, weighing him down like lead.

“Everyone will be fine,” Ginny said, taking Harry’s hand and Albus’.  
“But Lucinda and-” He was cut short by a cry of his name, loud and happy in a voice he’d thought, deep down, he’d never hear again. As he strained to see past his parents, both decidedly not looking behind them, there was a loud bang, some shuffling and pained breathing, and then Lucinda was standing behind Harry, clutching her stomach from pain but grinning like a mad woman and Albus could feel himself mirroring the expression helplessly.

Without even looking at the famous Harry Potter, she shoved past both his parents and sat herself down at the edge of his bed. Despite her smiling like she thought he was better than the sun, she looked ill. There was a waxy sheen all over her skin, even paler than normal, a slight tremor in her shoulders and she was pressing hard on her tummy. Albus only noticed her hair when she shuffled forward further to hug him, black and curly, longer than normal, her natural hair, which was concerning in itself, never mind how laboured her breathing was. The relief he’d felt at seeing her seeped out of him like a sieve.

“Lucinda,” he breathed, worry lacing his voice, careful now not to hold her too tight.  
She pulled away and rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that Al, I’ll be fine.”  
His parents seemed to agree with him though. “I could go and fetch Madam Pomfrey for you,” his mother said, placing her hand gently on Lucinda’s arm. Lucinda’s face managed to get even whiter.  
“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “She’ll go mad if she finds out I’ve walked over here!” She turned to Albus then, and said in a low whisper, as if his parents wouldn’t hear when they were right beside her, “I’ve already ripped open my wounds twice walking around.”  
“Then let me give you a hand back over,” his dad said kindly, standing to do just that. Lucinda only shook her head, and scooted closer to Albus.

Albus let out a sigh of resignation, and knowing that Lucinda was safe and happy, let himself ask the question he’d been holding back on, and knowing that meant everyone else was safe too.

“So, what happened? After I passed out.” His parents shot each other knowing looks behind Lucinda’s back.  
“We’re not entirely sure.” Albus stared at his father, watching as he internally fought with himself, indecision written all over his face. Lucinda was watching him too, eyes narrowed; she’d clearly not heard this story either. Finally, Harry continued, “Thorne went and got Flitwick, he sent for us straight after. We got down there as soon as we could, Scorpius said it wasn’t long after you passed out.” The sound of Scorpius’ name send a spark down his spine. He was glad to see his parents, Lucinda too, but really he wanted to see Scorpius, see with his own eyes that he’d be fine. “We managed to expel the ghost, he won’t be back. And then we got you all up here. Once you were all stable, we went back and collapsed the Chamber. Nobody will ever be able to get in there again.”

Albus wasn’t sure what to say to that. The presence that had been haunting for months was gone, just like that, no real evidence that he’d ever existed past his own lifetime. It all felt anticlimactic really.

Ginny broke the silence. “Madam Pomfrey managed to fix Rose’s arm immediately. Colt’s took a lot longer, she had to regrow the bone entirely, but he still was only in overnight. Dimitri had to have most of the bones of his lower spine and thighs, he was in for a week. James too, but he only woke up after five days, you too.” He tried not to smile at her use of Carrow’s first name as she looked pointedly at Lucinda, who’s been nodding along to this the whole time. _A week?_ Albus wanted to ask. _How long have I been in here?_

“Miss Dolohov!” came a shriek from the door. Albus turned to see Madam Pomfrey storming in through the door, fury written all over her face. “What are you doing over there?” Lucinda seemed to shrink into herself, looking sheepishly up at the stern witch. Madam Pomfrey didn’t wait for an answer. “And how did you get there? I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Potter didn’t help you, and Albus certainly isn’t able!” She looked at Albus then, and her face softened ever so slightly. “Good, you’re awake, I’ll examine you later.”

Without another word to any of them, she stomped off to get a floating chair, forced Lucinda to sit in it and whisked her away, presumably to her bed. Albus heard her shout at her for opening her wounds up again. He felt vaguely guilty; he couldn’t deny, if anyone asked him, that he was also highly amused.

* * *

Harry and Ginny stayed a while longer, told him he’d been out of it for _three weeks_ which made him shudder at the thought of the amount of work he’d have to catch up on. Everybody had survived the chamber, Scorpius had come out unscathed bar a few small cuts and bruises, and Lucinda would survive too. Plus, all the victims of the basilisk were fine, for most the only hurt left catching up on schoolwork.

After classes had finished, he’d gotten a stream of more visitors. Calin and Carrow managed to get Lucinda back across to his bed, Thorne, Colt, Rose and James all sat at his bedside, telling him more about what had happened after, eventually going on to the normal talk of the school. Avery dropped in too, and together with Calin told him off for ruining their chance at the Qudditch Cup, and in Calin’s final year too. Eventually, the guilt that had sat on his chest for what felt like months started to slip away as he laughed and soothed their hurts with his friends, the beginnings of contentedness filling him. Scorpius sat by his side the whole time, holding his hand tightly in his own.

When everyone else filtered off, to bed or to study, or, as with Calin and Lucinda, to canoodle on her bed, Scorpius stayed, and lay down beside him. They stayed in silence for a while, the air heavy with the words Albus could tell Scorpius wanted to say.

“We used to fuck,” Scorpius admitted eventually, sounding like he wanted to be angrier about it than he was, like the anger had seeped out of him over time. Albus knew already of course, the memory of Salazar Slytherin sneering a mockery of an aroused Scorpius burned in his mind. If it had been anybody else, he might have felt appalled, disgusted, violated. Instead, he felt sorry, sad for Scorpius, like he too, was to blame. Perhaps he was.  
“But it wasn’t you.” There was anger in Scorpius now, at himself. Albus turned over to look at his pointed, guilt torn face.   
“And I didn’t even notice.” Scorpius dragged a slender hand down his face, and Albus could hear the way he was holding back tears in his voice.  
“I didn’t either,” Albus said softly, taking Scorpius’ other hand in his too.  
“How could you have?” Scorpius said quietly, avoiding Albus’ eyes. “You were possessed.”  
Albus didn’t say anything to that, just turned over fully so he could press his forehead to Scorpius.  
“I’m sorry,” Scorpius breathed, looking into his eyes fully, grey and tearful.  
Albus heart ached, so he said the only thing he thought might help. “I love you.”  
Scorpius smiled a small smile, and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I love you Albus.”

 


	12. Epilogue: The Boats

* * *

 The day was bright and warm, only the odd cloud marking the otherwise perfectly blue sky, exceptionally nice for an early summer’s day in the Scottish highlands. Albus Severus Potter was happy. He held Scorpius’ hand lightly, content with their casual intimacy, as he spoke to Colt about their last Quidditch match of the year, of their Hogwarts lives. Carrow was up ahead, his arm, rather shockingly still, around Rose’s shoulders, who had her own arm around his waist. The news of that relationship was still sinking in, Albus still couldn’t quite believe it. Behind them, he could hear Thorne talking with Lucinda and Anastasia, the former quite unable to hide her excitement of seeing her boyfriend for as long as she liked, forever, after a year of fitting him in around school and his work. Albus’ friends were happy, his boyfriend was happy, his brother was happy, doing very well as a trainee Healer, the knowledge of which was almost better than his own happiness.

After his near death experience, he’d decided to let old wounds heal, to let his family in. It was still uncomfortable a lot, awkward most of the time, especially when Carrow and Lucinda had come to visit him over summer and his family weren’t quite sure what to make of the relatives two sets of nefarious Death Eaters, who hadn’t made amends like Scorpius’ dad, and weren’t ashamed of their surnames the way the Potters and the Weasleys felt, silently, they should be. But it was better, and Albus finally felt loved.

When they reached the boat house at the edge of the Black Lake, Hagrid was there, his hair entirely white now, his wrinkles visible even with his raggedy beard. Fang sat, old and drooling, but looking quite happy, at his side. He came out of retirement every year for this; to ferry the first years over to the castle for the first time, and to ferry the seventh years to the train for the last time. Tears glittered in his black eyes, even though he was smiling broadly.

Albus had gotten to know Hagrid well in his final year, given the fact that he’d transferred from divination to care of magical creatures and discovered that actually, he loved it. He’d been invited to lunch with Rose and Lily to Hagrid’s every Friday after he found that out. Sometimes, Scorpius would come along too, though he was still slightly wary of the half giant.

“Well, have a good, long last look,” Hagrid said to them brokenly, dabbing at his eyes with a huge handkerchief. Without another word he burst into full on sobs, as they all looked back at the great castle looming on the mountain. Albus patted him on the arm lightly, his gaze flitting between the castle and Scorpius, his pale, pointed, lovely face angled to the castle but laughing at some comment Carrow had said beside him. He felt his heart swell, as if it might burst out of his chest.

“Right,” Hagrid began once he’d gathered himself together. “Time to get on. Four to a boat!”

Albus immediately got onto the nearest boat, swaying slightly in the water. Scorpius followed him, then Rose and Carrow. Lucinda stood at the edge, looking annoyed.  
Carrow laughed. “It’s already got four Luce!” he cackled, watching as her expression grew devious. Glancing back at Hagrid to make sure he wasn’t looking, she took out her wand and muttered, “Engorgio.”  
The little boat grew drastically, easily able to fit another four people in. A laugh burst from Albus at her smug expression as she clambered in, gesturing for Colt, Thorne and Anastasia to follow. Just more than a year ago, he would have tried to fight it, but not now.

“Everybody ready?” Hagrid shouted as soon as Thorne had pulled his leg in. He glanced around to check, saw the eight of them sitting in a much larger boat, smiled to himself and then shouted, “Forward!”

The boats sped off across the Black Lake, splitting its glassy surface. It felt so strange, being in this little boat, knowing beneath the waters was his common room, his home for seven years that he’d never see again. Albus imagined that when he looked down hard, he could see the glass of the ceiling and the green leather couches. Maybe the floor would be passed over by shadows of the boats right then.

A cackle of laughter brought Albus back for his mind, looking back into the boat to see Carrow and Rose laughing hysterically at Colt who was looking rather guilty, his hand pushy ever so slightly at Albus’ shoulder. He smiled back, guessing what they’d been pretending to do, no longer paranoid that everybody hated him.

“So,” Rose said, when she’d finally stopped laughing. “What is everybody doing after this?”  
“I got a job offer at Gringotts, apprentice curse breaker,” Thorne said. Albus nodded, he knew what most of his friends plans were.  
“Trainee potioneer,” Colt said quietly.  
“I got on the Auror programme," Carrow said quietly. Albus blinked hard.  
“I thought you were going to be a curse breaker?” Anastasia asked, raising an eyebrow.  
Carrow only shook his head and smiled. Albus would have to get it out of him later.  
They went around the rest of them slowly; Anastasia was going to be a trainee Healer, Rose was apprenticing to Ollivander, and Lucinda, shockingly, had gotten an offer to be a reserve beater for the Montrose Magpies. That had gotten a veritable round of applause from the whole boat.

“What about you two?” Thorne asked, eying Albus and Scorpius from his place at the head of the boat.  
“We’re going traveling,” Scorpius answered casually, sending Albus a small smile. “Al wants to be a magizoologist.”  
“What about you?” Lucinda asked. She’d been asking Scorpius what he intended to do for months, ever since he’d said he still didn’t know. The truth was, as Scorpius replied to her then and all the other times, he didn’t know. He just wanted to see the world, and decide on the way. Lucinda and Rose both groaned, but Albus smiled, and took Scorpius’ hand.

They’d be fine, and if they weren’t they’d just all come together again and fix it, because they’d managed it before, so why not forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come and find me on tumblr


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